


'Till the sun comes shining through again

by Kt_fairy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Catholic Steve Rogers, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, POV Alternating, Period Typical Attitudes, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, but it is not this day!, consensual sexual content, one day Bucky will not have to take an exam, referenced attempted suicide, sam is under-qualified for everyone's shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6168229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The modern world is not that shiny, and not that new, but it does have a lot of space for becoming the people you could have been. Which is good when the only thing Steve has left is a head full of memory and half his best friend, and all Bucky has is a parts of what he is and was. </p>
<p>But they make it work, they make it work really well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Can be read as a pt.2 of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1618748"> 'Till skies are blue again</a> but you won't need to read it for this to make sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Till the sun comes shining through again

**Author's Note:**

> Everything in this fic is as accurate as I can make it, except the Marvel stuff which I play fast and lose with 'cause someone whose name sounds like Woss Jhedon saw fit to do so and he ain't shit.
> 
> Characters belong to Marvel, words belong to me.

 

 Bucky always had a way about his walk that drew the eye. The low centred, shoulders back swagger that even Steve, with his shitty colourblind eyesight, could pick out of a crowd of blurred, dull shapes on side-walks or dance-halls

“Struttin’ around all arrogant ‘cause of that good job. _His_ people don’t have to beg for work...”, people used to mutter, hardship making them unkind, seeing the way Bucky walked and taking it for conceit. Not knowing that Bucky worked his ass off to get and keep that shipping company job. Not recognising like Steve did that it all came from the hips; the sway of them rocked his body when he walked, the way they canted giving him a cocked-hip, cock-sure stance. He noticed it because he was an artist, you see, and Bucky was the most convenient thing to draw; sat on the curb bent over the comic resting on his scraped knees, laying upside down on the couch with his long legs swung over the back mourning the rainy days of school holidays, sat at the table leaning back in his chair despairing at the work he had brought home, shirt pulling taunt on his lean body.

 Not Steve’s fault Bucky translated onto paper like the guys J.C.Leyendecker drew (after the war his sketches had been locked away deep in the Smithsonian until the eighties when someone found them and he became a 'Gay Icon'. They were returned after his defrosting but the boxes remained unopened, remembering what was lost would send him mad.) Bucky was a fine looking fella and Steve was just good enough to get that onto paper. It was why he never thought too much about it when he used to watch Bucky move about their small apartment in the days when Steve and the world were smaller, wanting to capture all the little things about him.

 “You alright there?” Bucky had asked once, face carefully blank except for an arched eyebrow. He had been making toast when he turned, body twisting like something from the Art Nouveau posters his mammy used put over the damp on the walls

“Yeah, why? I grown another head?”

“I can feel you lookin’ at me. I can always feel you lookin’ at me, Steve.” There had been a weight to those words Steve had not understood, not wanted to, waving his sketch pad at Bucky for an explanation that had put that matter to rest.

 

 “You gonna burn a hole in his ass if you’re not careful.” Sam said quietly near Steve’s ear, making a grab for the coffee in front of him that nearly went flying as Steve jerked out of his reverie.

“Wha..?”

“It’s not exactly subtle.”

“Subtle?”

Sam raised his mug to his lips, “You’re a bad liar, Cap.”  

“What are you talking about? I’m just looking at Bucky.” Steve held Sam’s gaze as it went from incredulous to amused to something like shocked realisation.

“Steve, you don’t _just_ look at him.” Sam shook his head, professionally serious, clapping Steve on the back, “I think we need a little talk when we get back.”

“About what?” He watched as Sam looked around the diner before turning back to him.

“It can wait, trust me. Just enjoy lunch with out the world ending.”

“Please don’t tempt it!” Pepper pleaded as she slipped into the seat opposite Sam, “I’m not superstitious but I don’t take any chances these days what with Norse gods and assassins coming ‘round for dinner every Saturday.”

“We should put a dinner on.” Bucky announced as he flopped down heavily next to her.

“I am not cooking for Thor _and_ Wanda, the kitchen isn’t big enough.”

“Sure we can. I watched Bitchin’ Kitchen’ that one time.”

“One cooking show does not a cook make, trust me, I know.” Sam was grinning to himself, “Sooo many failed attempts at seductive dinners.”

“No, he’s watched all the episodes.” Steve sighed as Bucky said eagerly, “I watched it all one weekend!”

 Pepper ran her hand over Bucky’s shoulder. She had always been kind to him, even when Steve could tell he terrified her. “I would love to come to your floor for dinner. But only after you've passed your Field Work Competence exam!" Bucky rolled his eyes, the only person unconcerned about his two previous failures. (The first exam Bucky flunked because he now had the freedom _to_ muck around - a childlike pushing of boundaries that thankfully only lasted sixteen weeks- the second because he was a little too under-zealous in the combat test). "Now, Sam, I want to hear about these disaster dates.”

 “Hey, don’t make it sound like this is a common occurrence! I’ll have you know I am a charming date…”

 Steve glanced across the table to Bucky who was quietly drinking his milkshake through a straw, looking at Sam as he listened to the ‘Un-Dead Lobster Story’ Steve had heard many times. His eyes, glittering with genuine amusement, turned to Steve when the punch-line about the coaster was met with peals of laughter from Pepper.

 They looked at one another as Bucky smiled slowly around the straw resting on his bottom lip, the winter sunlight slanting through the windows lighting up his eyes and bringing out the auburn in his hair.

“Can you hold still a moment?”

 Steve whipped out his sketchbook and pencil when Bucky gave a small nod, setting to work straight away on capturing the way the light caught the moisture on his lips, the curl of his windswept hair, the contrast in texture between skin and smooth plastic. He worked through their food arriving, Sam and Pepper talking away amongst themselves.

“Come on, let’s see!” Pepper reached across the table when Steve made to close his pad and gently tugged it from his hand.

“They’re just doodles and observations, nothing…” He trailed off as her eyes lit up, Sam peering at the sketch before turning a surprised look at Steve.

“You’ve got a talent here, shouldn’t keep it hidden away.”

“I got paid back in the thirties for some sign painting and comic’s. Nothing ever worth showin' off.”

 Pepper looked back at the sketch, “If you want, no pressure, I could help you get some of your stuff shown?”

 Steve hesitated, looked over at Bucky who was happily munching on a pickle now he could move, then at Sam who was looking disgustingly charmed, before shrugging. “I’ll think about it.”

 

“What will your exhibition be about?”

“My exhibition?” Steve paused in his examination of the contents of the fridge to look at Bucky who was perched up on the kitchen counter waiting for the pasta to cook. “Oh, that’s only a thought at the moment, Buck, haven’t had time to consider it yet.”

 Bucky swung his leg so there was a gentle thump of his heel against the cabinet door, “What would it be about, if you had one? Would you do it…be like the dirty comic’s you used to draw?” Bucky leered which Steve ignored because those pay-checks had meant they could turn the lamps on in the evenings so... “Or of the Avengers, you guys are pretty popular.”

“You’re one of the team, don’t forget that.”

“No-one will pay to see me.”

“I would.”

“Yeaaaah, but you’re too dumb to know any better.”

Steve snorted, “Just for that I’ll make it all about you.” He gave up on the fridge and went to open cupboards to try and find where Bucky had organised the bowls away.

“What, me like this?” Bucky pretended like he was holding a rifle and made ‘pew pew’ noises as he shot up the breakfast bar, “Or like this?” He pulled a heroic pose, looking off into the distance with what he must have thought was a noble expression. “Or this?”  He ran a hand through his hair, bending a leg up to his chest as he waved the other one at Steve coquettishly, fluttering his lashes.

 The bowls went forgotten, Steve eyeing the foot being waved gently at him, padding over to Bucky, “No, like this.” He grabbed the foot and pulled so Bucky slipped on the counter, grabbing at the windowsill behind him, yelling in protest.

“Some friend you are! Jerk!” Bucky kicked at Steve with his other foot, snarling in a way only he could make playful.

“I get cranky when I'm hungry, get on with the food.”

“Yes, husband dear.” Bucky hopped down off the counter and went about fixing the sauce, oblivious to the stricken moment Steve was suffering.

 He was not weirded out, lord no. They used to get in their fair share of running fights alongside the queers when gangs came into the neighbourhood to beat up some fairy’s, were taunted because of where they lived. Hell, they used to cover for the lesbians on the floor above! Steve was forever telling people gay marriage did not bother him, that gay adoption did not bother him, to the extent Clint had cards printed. Something was... _something’s_ were beginning to feel a bit like excuses and others were feeling like they should not be ignored any longer.

 Steve had never thought about his sexuality because, honestly, he assumed it was just something you automatically knew, and even if he had he would never have done anything about it. Of the two of them Bucky would have been the most likely to try out kissing a guy. Steve had no idea if he had and Bucky probably would not remember anyway, but being a Jew arrested for sodomy would not really have been ideal.

 The stove was flicked off and Bucky moved in front of Steve to get to the fridge, grabbing parmesan before closing the door with a casual flick of his hip that Steve was hyper aware of, or was this normal? Nothing ever felt the same around Bucky

“You get hit on the head in the gym or something?” Bucky grunted, face beginning to fall into that frown he got when Steve was worrying.

 A shake of a head and a long sigh lessened the glare, “Just had a long day, bud.” Steve shoved a hand through his hair, “Loooong day.”

 

 Sam was sat, no _reclined_ , by the pool on top of Avengers Tower, body made strong from controlling the wings glistening from a recent dip in the pool. Steve had asked him one day how his skin was always so good (noticing Clint turn up his hearing aids to hear the answer), 'This is aaalll cocoa butter baby, I ain’t gonna be the first ashy superhero.'

“Nobody better be blowing shit up.” Sam announced when Steve approached, “I have been sat in R&D for five, count it, one, two, three, four, _five hours_. I demand my pool time.”

“I can…sorry I’ll come back.”

“No, sit.” Sam sat up, flicking his sunglasses on top of his head so he could squint at Steve, “That look on your face will haunt me if I don’t give you an ear.” He motioned Steve to sit on the sun lounger next to his, _‘I take it this is about Bucky’_ going unsaid because when was it not Bucky? “What can I do for you Captain?”

“Last week. I was thinking about what you said, or did not say. Last week. At the lunch with Pepper?”

“Ah, yes. You know what I was talking about now?” Steve nodded. “It’s something that needs thinking about, everyone should always consider the grey area’s of themselves. I always went by the philosophy of _gnothi seauton -_ or ‘know thy self’ for the non Greek speaker- so it’s best to double check.” Sam spoke as if he were explaining ‘Ctrl+P’ or Badminton, helping to sooth the anxiety that had been plaguing Steve for days which had mostly gone ignored what with Bucky’s third Field Work Competency and Capability In Action Exam being today. It was not as if he had not been in the field already, but one of the few things unchanged since the 40’s was that everyone was a slave to paperwork.

 “It’s made me very confused, good confused because obviously I wasn’t what I though, or… I don’t know if what I’m feeling is what I think it is or if I’m over thinking or…why are you smiling?”

“Sorry man, kinda weird seeing you fall over your words. Cap always got the speech prepared.” Steve rolled his eyes. “So, what have you been thinking?”

 What had he not being thinking? Thinking about then and how Peggy had been the only woman he had ever looked twice at, but that was expected because he only wanted the One, right? Thinking about all the dates ‘Tasha had tried to set up that he avoided and why he had wanted so badly _to_ avoid them. Thinking about Bucky, about how he never thought things about a guy he thought about him.

 Steve took a deep breath. ”I know I love Bucky. Since I can remember I have loved Bucky. How I love him is what’s confusing me. I knew the…” He made a rolling motion with his hand, unsure of the correct word to use.

“The homosexual community.” Sam provided.

“...the homosexual community quite well back then, I just never thought about it, much-too busy not dying of something ya’know. I told myself I wasn’t interested in calling loads of dames because I would only court my one love so when Peg...when Peggy came along I was, barring the war of course, set.”

“What changed?”

“Self awareness?” Steve shrugged, “You bringing it up? Now I’ve realised Pepper thinks we’re a secret couple.”

 Sam laughed his chesty, infectious laugh, leaning towards Steve until he smiled. “Oh man, have I been fielding questions for you like I’m at all qualified enough to understand your personal life.” He slapped Steve on the knee, taking a moment to be serious again. “You don’t like any other women, now or then, except Peggy Carter?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t like any guys, now or then, except maybe Bucky?”

 Steve thought of the way his steps became lighter after Bucky laughed for the first time even though it made Steve realise he did not remember what that laugh used to sound like. How he could spend a whole night fighting insomnia but Bucky laying down next to him sent him off to sleep, how he would stop off on his way back from a mission to pick up Bucky’s favourite pastry so he would always be pleased to see him, about the first few times Bucky had argued his point to the finish in Team Meetings while holding Steve’s hand tightly under the table.

“Only Bucky.”

“ _Only_ Bucky!” The sudden echo came from the entrance to the roof which they both turned towards, watching as the man in question sauntered over to them with that familiar roll to his hips that had Steve wondering if it had always been on this side of indecent. “I’m level five clearance now, official A1 designation Avenger.”

“Tony’s gonna hate you,” Sam said, shaking Bucky’s hand, “he still thinks it’s favouritism Steve being Avenger One.”

“Well if he wanted to be in our gang he should have gotten messed up in the 40's like we did.” Bucky had more patience than most with Tony, but his whining about him and Colonel Rhodes 'only' being A2 was always met with a humour bypass. It was just a code for their superpowers after all.

“Well done, Buck. Glad to have you by my side again.” Steve was genuinely brimming with happiness, not just because he got his right hand man back, the other half of his team. it was a sign his faith and determination had been rewarded, and Steve thanked God for it.

“Do I only get the Captain America experience now you’re my boss?” Bucky teased, skipping close to the edge of the pool to dodge a playful kick.

“Please, squabble away from me, I’m clocked off.” Sam cried, waving Bucky towards the pool. “Go on, get in and leave me in peace.”

 Bucky glanced between the two of them in the way he had now, then pulled off his shirt and dumped his pants on the end of Steve’s lounger, making his way to the steps of the pool to kick off his flip flops and gingerly make his way in.

“Can we talk more later?” Steve whispered, eyes glued to the flood of emotions passing over Bucky’s face as the clear bright water slowly rose up his chest. The first time they had ever done more than paddle they were trying to cross a flooding river in Italy, bullets whizzing overhead and bodies in the water. Steve hoped Bucky did not remember that night.

“Any time you wanna talk. But, I think you should read up on Demisexuality - what it means, what it is, and think about it. I’ll send you some information after dinner, okay?”

“Thank’s Sam.”

“STEVE! Steve come join me. Steve, Steveeeee.” Bucky yelled, chin resting on the side of the pool so he could turn his large eyes on him, oldest trick in the book.

“Glad to be of help. Now get in and leave me to my sun.” Sam flicked down his sunglasses and pointed at Bucky. “You splash me Barnes and I’ll drop you in the Hudson, don’t think I won’t!”

 

                                              ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

  Going on TV had always come with the territory. Well no, not TV that had not been invented in the War, it was mainly film and...you get the idea. Publicity was as much part of Captain America as the Shield, he accepted his part as Avenger spokesperson with little protest because it was either him or Tony, and he was the most famous man in the world _because_ he was terrible at publicity.

 Steve had been on chat shows and at press conferences all over the world when destruction and death had shattered cities, explaining the help the Stark Foundation would give, always answering questions and offering sympathies honestly - never taking unjust barbs against his team and admitting wrongs when they had been committed. Sometimes Wanda would join him as someone who had lost everything more than once, and Sam always felt like he should give as much help as he could in the wake of mass death, to try and offer words of comfort to people whose lives had been wrecked by a world on the brink of chaos.

 Today everyone was packed into the green room, making enough of a mess to half distract Steve from the presence of Bucky in the Tower’s studio suite. There had been no argument from Bucky when Maria had suggested introducing him to the world so Steve had put aside any misgivings he had and tried to ignore the constant, nagging need to preserve the strange innocence that had came with every piece of human restored from the weapon Hydra made.

 Concessions had been made – with Bucky’s amused permission- and a list of allowed topics was sent to the journalists. “It’ll just make them want to find out more about him.” Natasha had warned, the look on her face saying she knew he was going to ignore her.

“One minute until show time, folks.” Colonel Rhodes announced as he entered the room bringing a wave of calm and control with him. He nodded at Steve before turning to Bucky, “Ready Sergeant?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then follow me.” Everyone fell into line behind Steve as he followed Bucky through the corridors that lead to the press room, “Remember, you are free to say ‘no comment’ to any question, you can leave at any time, and there is always protocol in place in case of trouble.”

“You mean in case Steve gets in an argument and Captain America get’s sent down for assault, sir?” Bucky glanced back with a half smile on his face, reaching over to give Steve’s shoulder a playful shove, a curl of hair pinging out of place to rest on his forehead.

It was the loveliest thing Steve had ever seen.

 Steve ignored Tony’s comments about him already being a felon on the run from the authorities and the subsequent expression on Rhodes’ face that was a bit like the one Bucky used to get whenever Steve started fights. Ignored Clint and Sam bickering about where they should sit, ignored Thor asking Natasha where she got her dress from. He ignored them all to gently put the errant curl back into place. He did not want to do it, in fact Steve immediately regretted the action as it was too forward when he was still figuring stuff out, but that curl was from early morning bleary eyed Bucky looking for coffee and eggs and was not for the world. He glanced down to meet Bucky’s eyes that were amused and gentle and a little scared.

“You need to hold my hand you go right ahead.”

“You’re a jackass.”

 

 Bucky had gone down wonderfully at the press conference- despite glaring at the bright lights and flashbulbs when they entered, giving the atmosphere a zing of tension. He had microphone trouble and made the press laugh with his rolled eyes and ragging on Tony to get it fixed before coming down from the table to speak one on one where he was at his best. Something the old Bucky struggled with- that kid had always preferred a crowd.

 There was a flood of requests for interviews from all sorts of shows after that and Steve should not have been surprised that Buck could win over nations. If the serum had made people see in Steve what Bucky had all along then it was about time people saw what was just under the surface of all that swagger and intent.

 But interviews had to wait, there was world saving to be done and Bucky had to live up to the A1 status Maria and Clint wrangled past the board. Someone had been hacking into nuclear power plants and trying to cause meltdowns, bouncing their IP address around the world so rapidly it had taken the combined efforts of MIT, Jarvis, Tony, and Natasha six hours to track them down to a mountain somewhere in Anatolia.

 The extraction of the hackers and their computers was made easy by Wanda and Bucky and their ability to terrify people into surrender. Steve had kept well back as the flashes of strobe grenades lit up the building and piercing shrieks split the night. Tony had flown off with the computers while the comatose hackers were on the floor of the jet. Natasha was cleaning up Sam’s wounded shoulder on the seats opposite Steve, chatting away to Clint as he cleaned and reset his arrows.

 Bucky was thrumming with life next him, legs jiggling so his undone straps jangled.

 Steve had read all the information Sam had sent him, labelled himself Demi-pansexual, and then thrown that label away. He was Steve Rogers and he loved who he loved, regardless of who or what they were, and all that mattered now was Bucky.

 

   _“Sam I…” Steve had not say any more, not sure what to say, feeling Sam look away when he realised Steve needed a moment. “I’ve been thinking about myself all this time and not about Bucky,” Sam made like he wanted to interrupt but stayed silent, “I don’t even know if he likes anyone like that now, if he even likes guys? Let alone me! He probably hasn’t given it a thought, I don’t blame him he’s working through so much…” _

_“Steve, Steve, Steve, lemme stop you there.” Sam had turned to face Steve where they were sat on the swing seat in the garden on the top of Avengers Tower. “Pepper thinking you’re in a secret relationship should have been enough of a clue.”_

_“You mean…”_

_“Yep, you’ve been flirting with one another for ages. Congratulations. Great to know you were our secret weapon versus the Nazi’s.”_

 

 Steve took a deep breath, “Hey, Buck.” He glanced up, still bouncing his legs, “will you let me take you for coffee tomorrow?”

 Bucky froze, expression something between shock and confusion, black war paint smeared down one cheek where he had rubbed his face. Steve owed it to the both of them not be gung-ho about this, asking in a way he knew Bucky would get was a date but anyone listening in might not pick up on, making it easy to back out of, laugh off, carry on.

 Bucky opened his mouth, hesitated, “You payin’?” he asked, double checking.

“Who do you take me for? Of course.” Steve puffed out his chest, pretending to be insulted to cover how hard his heart was beating.

“Sure, you can take me for coffee. Pick me up at our front door at eleven?”

“Your pa won’t give me a cuff ‘round the ear will he?”

 Bucky let out a sharp laugh, still a little startled by the noise, “I’ll tell him I’m meeting friends from work, have to be careful we don’t get spotted. You boys from Brooklyn got a bad name.”

“You boys from…where are you from then, sweetheart?”

Bucky made a show of preening, “Upper East Side.”

“Wooohooo boy! Well aren’t I the luckiest fella?”

“Yep.” Bucky smiled, pulling at the cut on his lip and Steve so very, very badly wanted to swipe the little bead of blood away with his thumb. Something must have shown on his face as the smile slowly slid off Bucky’s, eyes widening a little.

“Natasha! Thank you so much! You’re a star!” Sam said louder than necessary, breaking Steve out of the trance Bucky’s mouth had him in.

 Natasha insisted on checking Sam for other injuries after that, not missing the warning look Sam shot past her hip. Steve busied himself with the straps of his seat when she looked at him, knowing she could probably tell everything just from the set of his shoulders. It was not as if he wanted to hide this from her it was just… he looked over at Bucky who had stopped fidgeting, a slightly bemused look on his face. This could be easy or very, very difficult, or it could go nowhere at all, and after all that had passed between them this needed to be sorted out without any interference, helpful or no.

 

 Coffee was moved to five am at the all night diner Wanda worked at part-time to hang on to a semblance of normality. Debriefing had kicked out at four and there was really no point in going to sleep.

It had gone well, judging by the fact they had still been there when the Lunch crowd came in, but that was no surprise as they had always been able to talk for hours about nothing.

“We can’t just walk back into the apartment together.” Bucky announced as they strolled the long way home.

“Why not?”

“It’ll be odd, won’t it? Going on a date then coming back to the same place, what are we gonna do? Talk about it to one another? I’ll sit there and listen to you talk about how wonderful and handsome and funny this guy you met was and you can sit and listen to me talk about this _macher_ with muscles and his _eyes_ and…”

“Okay, okay."

"...ask each other what we thought the other guy meant by a brush of a hand, a bat of an eyelid...

" _Okay!_ I get it. I’ll walk you to Pepper.”

“Sure, walk me to Pepper. We’ll have a good talk about your heroic jawline.” He hopped out of the way of Steve’s shoulder nudge, laughing unrepentantly.

     

                                              --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Lookin’ snappy.” Natasha grinned as she leant easily on Steve’s wardrobe.

“Really?...” Steve gave himself a hard look in the mirror, he had made an effort not to look like Bucky’s uncle - swapping his chinos out for jeans and he had tried to find a t-shirt that did not fit where it touched but had to retreat back to the safety of a plaid button up.

“Never seen you in jeans before, hope your date is prepared.”

“Do they look terri…” Steve shot a look over at Natasha, hands smoothing down his thighs, “...couldn’t you at least pretend I had a secret?”

“You still do, I can’t get a read on Sam about who your date is.”

“Finally met your match?”

She smiled slowly, “Someone will trip up, and I’ll be there.”

“Could just ask me.”

“Okay then, who you taking out?”

Steve turned to look at her as his phone buzzed in his pocket, “Brunette that works in the building, finally worked up the courage.”

He shifted past her, trying not to smile because he had learnt the hard way that she could give a dead arm that lasted for hours.

“You son ‘of a bitch, it’s…”

“Buck!” Steve greeted as the elevator doors pinged open, taking his gym bag to put it down by the laundry door.

“Who else would it be? Oh hey ‘Tash. I messaged you about…” He trailed off as he looked at Natasha who was not trying to hide the grin on her face. Bucky glanced down at himself, still red cheeked from working out and damp from the showers, long legs clad in black jeans and one of Steve’s stretched out jumpers that was baggy enough so a slither of collarbone was just visible. Steve had to drag his eyes away to look at Natasha who had thinly covered her smugness.

“Move Barnes, I got stuff to do.” She grunted, pushing past the both of them to the waiting lift.

“That’s why you’re gossiping with Steve?”

“Nope.” She shrugged a shoulder as the doors slid shut, _“_ _nuzhno imet' chto-to khorosheye, chtoby smotret' na mezhdu dokumentami_.”

Bucky snorted, “Nat say’s you’re a nice break for the eyes.” Steve’s sigh was cut short by the quiet, “She’s got a point” muttered down at their shoes.

 They stood blushing at one another for an awkward moment, Bucky picking at the fraying hem on the old jumper as he waited for Steve to speak. They never used to have problems filling silences, came with being not only New Yorkers but Irish and Jewish to boot. Bucky’s confidence come and went these days, leaving him depending on Steve who, ironically, was not who he was any more either. Which led to moments like these, and would probably lead to many more as they stepped out in Steve’s first ever relationship and the only one Bucky was fully aware of.

“Ready for the movies?”

 Bucky straightened, visibly excitement, “You bet! Always liked the cartoons best.”

 When JARVIS only found the latest ‘Animated Film’ to be safe for Bucky to watch Steve had worried they would be the odd fully grown men at a kids film getting looks from parents, but they were sat in between another couple on a date and a group of excited teenagers who made no attempts to hide their appreciative glances as Bucky and Steve slipped past them to their seats.

  They whispered all the through the trailers and adverts, Steve trying not to shove handfuls of butter popcorn into his mouth while Bucky chewed them thoughtfully, letting Steve have the most of it.

 The film was heart warming and surprisingly deep, not the mindless slapstick of their youth; the girls sat next to Steve even began to tear up at one point and he took a moment to panic about if he should offer comfort or not when Bucky’s hand found his. It was his metal one, hidden under a holographic glove he wore with an obedience that Steve knew would not last. It was slightly cooler than normal skin and Steve gripped back tightly, knowing Bucky would feel the pressure and the warmth.

 When the credits rolled Bucky was sat wide eyed, hand still in Steve’s as he turned to look at him.

“How…?”

“I know, I know. They do it with computers.”

“Those things I email on? Google?”

“Yeah, they draw the pictures in the computer and then make them move. Like puppets.” That was mostly accurate, Steve hoped, going from the special features Bruce had shown him to help explain the visual overload of Spirited Away.

 Bucky blinked at the screen, “Like a puppet…” he repeated gently, glancing back at Steve, “…sure beats Bugs Bunny.”

 For a long, lovely moment everything felt right. Bucky’s hand in his, fitting so well after Super Serums and metal appendages, just like it had been when Steve was on the brink of succumbing to pneumonia again and Bucky would sit for days just holding his hand and pleading with him not to go.

 Steve sucked in a shaky breath, a quirk of Bucky’s eyebrows showing how clear that emotion had been on his face. He had always been there for Steve, always, and Steve had not always been there for him. It was not his fault Bucky fell but he should have jumped after him. He would have survived the jump and the walk back. He should have found the body, got him buried properly, knew what that would have meant to Bucky’s family, not left him without Shemira in a snowy ravine half way across the world. Alone. Like he had never let Steve be.

“Rogers!” A voice barked and he snapped back into the present and the crushing hold Bucky had on his hand. “Don’t go pitying us both.” He grunted, eyes sharp. “What’s done is done.”

 Steve was not one for public displays of affection, not that he had much chance **to**  kiss people over his life, but he had to stop himself from pressing a kiss to Bucky’s serious mouth.

 Eyes turned dark by the lighting flicked down to Steve’s mouth with the same intensity he caught targets in his rifle-sights and Steve braced himself to be kissed when Bucky looked away and stood.

 He would be lying if he said he was not disappointed, but Bucky held his hand tightly on the walk home and that felt like flying.

 Steve walked Bucky to the ranges in the towers basement, not hesitating a beat as he leant down the four inches between them and pressed his lips to Bucky’s scratchy, stubbly cheek. Bucky never had the good grace to blush, instead grinned up at Steve like they had just done something very naughty and very thrilling, foiling Steve’s valiant attempts at not getting flustered.

 

                                               ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 R&D quality testing was fun, do not get the idea that Sam hated it, it just took for eveeerrrrrrrr. So many adjustments, tinkering, and tests to be done, all the while captive audience for the Stark Monologues, the price paid for being A4 Avengers that depended on their equipment working. Clint had taken out his hearing aids and curled up on top of a 3D printer for a sleep sometime into the second hour. It was almost a relief when one of Nat’s new Widow’s Bite’s caused a power surge and fusing half the lab so they got out early.

 Thor and Wanda had been about to order take-out when they trooped into the communal kitchen, offering to get food for them all as ordering another few cartons of Chinese was no biggy on top of their usual feast. “Steven and James Buchanan are in the den yonder, go and ask what they wish to eat if you will, Clint.”

 Sam being the only one officially ‘in’ on the long time coming relationship meant he had found himself in the position of trying to keep it away from the attention of others. Within six days of meeting Steve Sam had been under no illusions that very little came before Bucky.  If the Team put the relationship under pressure then they would leave The Avengers, and Sam’s ass would have to follow because they were his friends, and he really liked his free-of-charge prime real-estate penthouse.

 He shoved the menu across at Clint, to Nat’s protests, and started striding towards the hallway “Don’t worry about it, I've picked what I wanted you pick” He said loudly, not that he needed to worry as Clint was still pulling his ‘urgh why do  _I_ have to get up’ face.

 Sam leant on the door-jam when he got to the den, taking a moment to be a sap.

 They were on the couch, Bucky’s face turned towards the sleeping head in his lap, Steve’s large body curled up on the cushions while his feet dangled over the arm-rest, Bucky’s fingers idly running through his hair, messing it up then smoothing it out just to mess it up again. He was singing to Steve, so quietly Sam could only catch the odd word, in a voice he could tell was a pale comparison of what it used to be. Of all the things to smash up about a person their singing voice felt like more like wanton spite than weaponising a human.

 Bucky stopped suddenly, Sam thinking he had noticed his presence but he just continued looking down at Steve and stroking his hair, so he knocked quietly on the door frame to put an end to his creeping. Bucky leant his head back to look at him while Steve slept on, for once relaxed enough to not jerk awake at the smallest noise.

“Was that something his mom used to sing?” Sam asked quietly.

“No. She used to sing Gaelic songs. I think...this is something I heard before I was on the right meds, I can’t remember from where.”

“It’s nice.” Bucky nodded, looking at Sam silently. “Thor is ordering food and wanted to know if you guys wanted any?”

Steve finally moved, rolling onto his front and blinking blearily at Sam. “Yes.” He mumbled, looking confused as Sam burst out laughing.

“You spoke the magic word.” Bucky said, looking the most calm Sam had ever seen him.

 They straggled back into the kitchen to the sound of Clint begging Thor to “Just order! Please! They can call in their own food!...oh FINALLY, I thought you had gone to Jersey to find these guys! What were you doing anyway, making out?” He demanded, making a kissy face. Wanda and Nat simultaneously choked on their drinks as Bucky and Sam exchanged looks while Steve wrestled the take-out menu off Clint to swat him with it, Thor shaking his head at all this mortal silliness.

 

                                                -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

  This must be what they meant by peace and quiet.

 There was only the sound of water gently lapping on the rocky beach and the intermittent cry of some distant bird echoing towards him. He glanced at the rock he had been holding for a while now, warming its water worn smoothness in his human hand, considered skimming it but pocketed it instead, reaching for another rock and launching it towards the near horizontal wooded cliff jutting straight out of the mirror-like water of the fjord.

 The rock fell short into a reflection of one of the elegant wisps of cloud travelling across the smooth blue sky. The water rippled, spreading out slowly to distort the green reflection of the cliffs. He pondered the effects of his action a moment, wandered if it was anything like the disruption he had caused for Hydra over the past seventy years. He thought about it only for a moment, scrubbed a hand through his hair and went back to watching the sunlight on the water and the clouds lazy progress; they did not care what the asset now called Bucky Barnes had done.

 Movement far to his right drew his attention and he zeroed in on the grey forms of a small pack of wolves picking their way along the top of the fjord. He gave the wood ahead of them a quick scan, his eyes had always been good but now they were better than good, however he saw no evidence of prey up-ahead. Even animals evolved to kill had days off, he thought.

 The wolves soon faded into the greenery, out of even Bucky’s sight, and he shifted for the first time in a while, bending his legs so his feet met sole to sole, leaning his elbows on his knees. There was a movement of stones, a long, sure, stride of a heavy, powerful body. Steve.

 He glanced back, taking in the contented smile and the faint red of short lived sunburn on his nose and forehead, and returned the smile. It was not often they got down time on a mission, not often it was two of such importance out on surveillance for two weeks on what was basically a free vacation. Bucky supposed there were worse things than stepping out with Captain ‘get-everyone-to-owe-you-a-favour’.

 Steve held out a brown paper bag with a hand that had the shiny grey evidence of pencil sketching all along the side, a few eraser rubbings clinging to his slacks giving away he had the pad on his lap. Probably drawing the fjord for that exhibition he was still not committing to.

 Bucky reached into the bag, something a few months ago he would not have been able to do before knowing what was in there, the sensors in his metal fingers picked up a soft, sticky sensation. As he removed his hand the smell of cinnamon wafted over and Bucky sighed deeply. Cinnamon buns - he was tempted to never leave Norway just to keep eating them. Tempted never to leave this little village and the bakery that made them fresh twice daily, never leave the dear little wooden house they were using for the duration of their working holiday, painted a cheery lilac. Tempted to stay where there was peace.

 But Steve could never stay, the _mamzer_ had duties to do and rights to wrong, and if he could never have left before Bucky would never leave now, knowing Steve’s love could, maybe, become something more for someone like him. Even before all this he would have been incredulous that Steve, so brave and bright, would ever turn his attention to him. Even now he was still just a weapon, only now with feelings...unless he changed that. He could do that now, change, be anything. Be worthy.

 Steve settled down next to him as Bucky took a bite of the bun, licking the glaze off his lips, ignoring how the movement was tracked by eyes that would match the sky in about fifteen minutes.

Bucky knocked their shoulders together and nodded out at the view. “You’re spoilin’ me for all others.”

“What if that’s my plan?” Steve said, jutting his chin out defiantly, still gazing at Bucky.

 Bucky pressed a sticky kiss to Steve’s cheek, pulled back enough for eyes to meet his, let Steve’s hand gently cup the back of his neck, and pull him into gently press their cinnamon covered lips together.

“Steve, I wanna…” Bucky breathed against Steve’s chapped lips. “I wanna train to counsel children.”

“Okay…”Steve did not even sound surprised by the request

“You think they’ll let me?”

Steve got that expression Bucky thought he remembered, a mixture of hurt and a scoff. “Yeah of course they will. You love kids, and kids always loved you. I’ll ask Sam about it…” Steve said gently, running his thumb over Bucky’s scratchy cheek before kissing him again.

 

                                           --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 When Steve was suffering with pleurisy for the second time (out of a total of three) the Doctor had told Bucky, as his mammy was working the extra shifts to pay the guy, that body heat would be better for him than piles of blankets.

 He had been fourteen at the time, Bucky thirteen, on the cusp of being too old to bunk up if they had not already had to resort to couch cushions ‘cause Bucky had a growth spurt that made his joints just as bony as Steve’s but with the lethal addition of being attached to suddenly long limbs. Bucky had got right under the covers as soon as the Doctor left, wrapping himself around Steve and had still been there six hours later when his mammy came home thinking he had died as his breathing was no longer rattling.

 Since then whenever Steve got ill Bucky would get under the covers with him, hugging him tighter the more Steve gave him grief for it.

 Bucky now had his own bedroom on Steve’s floor, no-longer adjoining as he was not a danger to himself any more, but every morning at five-fifteen Bucky would shuffle into his bed and press a hand onto Steve’s ribs for a bit before falling asleep plastered to his back.

Steve stopped waking up when Bucky came to check he was alive months time ago.

 Being in a relationship had not made Steve weird about it but he had hesitated for ages, being distracted by it in actual important meetings, about telling Bucky that if he ever wanted to stay the night he was more than welcome.

From the amount of Bucky’s stuff now in his wardrobe he needn't have done so much dithering.

 The sunlight woke him up rudely, glaring through his eyelids and Steve pressed his face into Bucky’s back to hide from it.

“I gotta go College Steve.” Bucky murmured into the pillow, not sounding like he really wanted to move as he tried to put his feet over the edge of the bed.

Steve whined, tightening his arms and legs around his warm body, liking how solid he was against him.

“I can’t take you as a back pack, I’ll have nowhere to put my laptop.“

Steve laughed, knowing Bucky was smiling, and let him go to roll onto his back, listening to Bucky groan and grumble like a old man as he got up to take his meds and get dressed. Steve cracked open an eye to watch, closing it again as Bucky pulled on his holographic sleeve, the bed dipping when he leaned over to give Steve a gentle good morning kiss.

“You want me to bring you some breakfast?” Steve found Bucky’s face with his hands and brought him down for another kiss. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

                            

                                         --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

  The shrill of the buzzer went and Bucky was vaulting over the back of the sofa yelling ‘Pizzaaaa! Pizza Pizza Pizza!” before Steve could even blink.

 Bucky, who had only ever acted out in class because he was bored, was being amazingly diligent with his studying. Talking or singing or sighing at himself as he worked, leg bouncing with increasing tempo as the afternoons dragged on and he bent further and further over his books.

 Steve had half a sketch pad full of varying details of what he could see of Bucky from the couch; a loose sketch of his head rested gently on the heel of his hand and the fall of his hair, the basic outlines where Steve was trying to work out how to capture the way Bucky’s ankles crossed under his chair, a detailed image of Bucky with his legs kicked out under the desk and his head thrown right back to read a book he was holding up in the air.    

 They had ordered from a place Clint had recommended, not yet able to find one that did pizza they liked, and Steve had high hopes as he cleared a space on the coffee table, stomach gurgling when the elevator doors pinged open and the smell seemed to fill the apartment.

“I didn’t eat none but I looked in the boxes and they look so good Stevie I think we should have got more.” Bucky chattered away as he clambered over the back of the couch and dropped down heavily on the cushions, somehow not dropping any of pile of boxes he was balancing on one hand.

“Can you not do that? Tony will be unbearable if we break another couch.” Steve sighed, placing the boxes on the table.

“We did not break it. Broken is unfixable and that was fixable!” Bucky protested, letting Steve take the first slice before he scooped one up and shoved half in his mouth in one go, “’sides, Ife Hokeh ifs eficting.” He said around the food and Steve had to agree, Ice Hockey was very exciting.

 Three pizza’s down and they had to admit defeat for the moment, Bucky throwing himself back against the cushions and patting his little round tummy, “I can feel everything stretching.” He announced and Steve snapped his mouth shut around a crust and told himself very sternly not to make the obvious joke.

He was quite surprised that it worked.

“Should I rub it for luck?” He teased, reaching over to lay his hand on Bucky’s stomach.

“I’ll break your hand if you do.” Bucky groused but did not bat Steve’s hand away, just pulled a face at him.

 Steve followed his hand, shifting to press his face against Bucky’s stomach, suddenly coming over very sentimental at the sight, remembering the poke-able tummy Bucky got from stuffing his face after his good first pay-check paid for both of them to go out for steak. Steve smiled at the memory of him tormenting that young man by tickling him with his bony hands and how Buck, doubly strong enough to shove him away, let him.

“Hey, you alright?” Bucky asked gently, resting his warm hand carefully on Steve’s head.

“Yeah.” He sighed, sitting up enough to look into Bucky’s eyes, as blue and changeable as all the clichés in the world could describe, “All that cheese gone to my head.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes for a beat before he grinned, “From the looks of it cheese ain’t the only thing in your empty head right now.”

“What else, David Blaine?”

“Kissin’ me.” Bucky _purred_ and all the serum in the world would not make Steve strong enough to resist that.

 His lips were slippery with grease and fragrant tomato sauce, but oh so soft and sweet underneath, opening slightly for a slip of tongue to brush Steve’s lips - a carefully made request for more that Steve tried to fulfil. He was still a little clumsy but he had always been eager to learn and the little noises Bucky made let him know he was doing something right.

 One hand was threaded through his hair, resting gently against his scalp, the other was fluttering over his shoulders. He grabbed the cool wrist and tugged Bucky’s hand to rest on his lower back, dropping his own hand to a strong thigh to press it against his hip, squeezing the muscle through the soft fabric of worn sweats. Bucky made an agreeable noise in the back of his throat, cool fingers tracing the long line of Steve’s spine and he pulled back just far enough to whisper, “ _Fuck”_ , to red lips.

“What kinda girl do you take me for, Rogers?”

“Mmmmm.” Steve hummed into his neck, relishing the thump of Bucky’s heartbeat. “My best one. Best guy too.”

“Peggy’s your best girl.” Bucky said simply, as if he was pointing to where key’s had been left, but it made Steve pull away as something cold nudged his gut. “Oh Steve.” Bucky looked sad, reaching up to hold Steve’s face in his hands. “Didn’t mean to make you unhappy. Just don’t wanna take her place.”

“You’re not!”

“You know what I meant.” He traced over Steve’s cheekbone with hard metal thumb, smiling when it made him shiver. “She’s her and I’m me, and you have enough love for us both - always had. Don’t …” he looked unsure a moment, “… don’t give her up a second time on my account.”

 It took Steve a second to realise what Bucky meant. “How did you know?”

“I don't remember a lot of things, but I know you could have got outta that plane, Stevie, if you had wanted to you would have.” Bucky flung his arms around Steve’s broad shoulders and pulled him down so their foreheads rested together, Bucky turning into a watery blur as tears filled Steve’s eyes.

“I wanted to dance with her so bad Buck, so bad. I would imagine it, and I’d always tread on her toes and she would just smile, roll her eyes at you where you were watchin’ and then we’d dance some more. Then you fell and you wouldn’t be there…” Steve squeezed his eyes shut as tears rolled down his cheeks, “I looked around for you at the debrief and it was like I lost you all over again,  _a chuisle mo chroí. Mo Shearc_. I couldn’t…”

 Bucky tucked Steve’s head into his shoulder and held him tightly, cooing gently in his ear like he had when Steve used to get asthma attacks, solid and warm and there. Bucky was the one time he gave up, the one time he backed down. He loved Peggy and he knew he was going to break her heart but she was strong. Stronger than any serum could make him, strong enough to win a war- he knew she could survive this where he could not.

“I love you.” He whispered into Bucky’s neck.

“And I love you too. I love you I love you I love you. I hate how much I love you, you jerk”

                

                                           --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 Bucky heard Maina coming, she wore heeled boots to compensate for her height and power-walked because she liked the sound those heels made on hard floors. Her normal perfume was deepened by a lingering Jasmine scent that usually meant she had been at a family event over the weekend. She thumped her bag down on the table top and slid into the seat opposite Bucky.

_“What the fuck you are looking so happy about? It’s Monday!”_ She demanded in Hindi by way of a greeting.

_“Had a good weekend then?”_ Bucky smirked over the top of the journal he was reading.

 She gave him a dirty look and pulled out a bottle of water from her bag. _“Cousin saw us out at_ Greenwich Village _last week, loved telling his mom all about it_ the fucking grass _. Had everyone telling my dad to get me married so you don’t impregnate me.”_ She sneered, taking a threatening sip.

“Wow…”

“How much family can one person have?”

“ _I can make you disappear if you like?_ ”

 She gave him a long hard look that most people withered under. Bucky just gave it right back and that, kids, is how they became to tolerate one-another enough to study and get food together.

 Going to NYU with the name James Barnes was not recommended in the meeting with Agent Hill he had before the Avengers Initiative _allowed him_ to apply for his child psychology major, as if they could stop him! So he had picked a different name for anonymity, smiling to himself as he put it down on the enrolment. Being in either combat gear or smart suits when on TV made it easier to disappear into the student body as all he had to do was dress in his usual Hipster mish-mash.

 Steve' mammy had been as fresh off the boat as Bucky’s, but whereas his family had pinged about all over Europe trying not to be persecuted, her family had never left Ireland since God put them there, so her Irishness never really left. Which had Bucky, a chameleon even at a young age, responding when she would absentmindedly call him Séamus.

 Most people had not clocked there was something about Séamus Berman, except Maina who had turned to him one day and said, “Since when was Séamus a Jewish name? And don’t give me any lapsed parents stuff, I know what being from a minority looks like.”

 He was not being the best at undercover around her. Bucky was fluent in many languages, many languages most people never bothered to learn so he tried to keep it to himself to not draw attention. One evening she had been on the phone to her mom and he had been trying so hard to pretend he could not understand her that when she turned to tell him she had to leave early he answered in Hindi.

 She joked he was a spy, and Bucky could tell that it was only because she was too busy getting a degree and fighting off marriage to take that thought seriously. Maina possessed a sharp mind alongside her grumbly disposition and unshowy kindness; Bucky was seriously thinking about recommending her to Maria Hill after they graduated.

“Maa want’s you ‘round for dinner next Thursday, _and to bring your man_.”

Bucky watched her pull out her laptop and clunk it down on the table. “ _Why does she want to meet_ Steve?”

“ _Because only the best could ever be good enough for you,_ strange white boy _._ Come on, let’s kick this Study’s ass. I want to sleep this weekend.”

 

                                               -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 The Hydra copies of the Destroyer from Thor and Loki’s New Mexico jaunt were working their way up the Thames Estuary, going for London. Clint was using the jet as eyes in the sky, relaying positions and Destroyer targets to Steve who passed it on to either Tony or Thor or the British Army at the same time as helping to clear people away from the battle as well as taking on a few Hydra agents, drawing fire from the extraction team who had gone into the midst of the…well the robots, to try and find who was controlling them. All in a day's work.

As soon as the jet had got into scanner distance Tony had projected a holographic schematic of the Destroyers and explained they only had short range receptors because of the interference thrown up by the radioactive soup that was powering them. It meant someone was on the ground controlling them and taking orders from a more far off Hydra commander.

 Wanda, Nat, and Bucky had orders to bring the Controller in as able to talk as possible, but the crack of gunfire and explosions from up ahead gave Steve grave doubts that they would be followed.

“Hey Cap, you’re getting a little…” The rest of Tony’s sentence was drowned out by a blast from one of the robots that sent Steve flying.

“Help would be nice.” He gasped out, lungs quickly recovering the air knocked out of them as the familiar blast of the Iron Man repulsors joined the din around him and a pair of familiar, sure hands were grabbing Steve by the shield straps on his back and the ground was rapidly disappearing as Sam lifted him into the air.

“Should get some wings on that shield of yours then you can fly your own ass out of trouble.” Sam ground out, trying not to weave too violently through the sky as explosions flashed around them, not unlike the flak that used to plague all planes flying over Battlefield Europe.

“Then I wouldn’t get this quality time with you!”

Sam laughed “I’m gonna drop you, just watch me.”

“Put me down two degrees east, need to ensure controller is taken alive.”

“Two degree’s due east is an okay.” The grip on the straps tightened as Sam adjusted course and headed towards to flashes of blue and red that were Steve’s extraction team.

“You picked the worse people to get someone out alive Cap, you know that?” Tony cracked over the com’s.

“I can do alive and talking, just depends...” Nat grunted, cut off by a faint scream in the background as a laugh echoed down the com’s while a fairly large explosion went off from near their position.

“Do not get blood all over my jet, Romanov.” Tony hissed as Steve’s feet touched the ground and he set off towards the copse of trees the extraction team had run into. He knew that laugh, and Steve recognising something was very rarely a good omen.

“No chatter on the coms!” Clint snapped and everyone fell silent, well as silent as it could be with RAF Tornado’s screaming past overhead.

 Steve made the treeline at a sprint but skidded to a halt as he saw the shattered, smoking trees and churned up earth where the rest of the copse should have been. The thud of airstrikes, the boom of armaments, a scream of someone wounded. For a moment he was on another battlefield in a different time, mind flashing through where each Howlie should be and what the victory of this battle would mean for the war.

 It was only when he realised the scream was from a woman that he snapped back into the present. Wanda was silent now, charred and bloodied with Nat pressing onto wounds and yelling into coms that weren’t working. Steve was requesting Med-Evac on auto-pilot, not aware of what he was saying or the replies as he watched a Destroyer, shorter but more bulky than the others, haul a screaming Bucky up by the leg so he was nearly level with its ‘face’ as it began to glow, preparing to blast him.

 Before he could swing the shield around in an attempt to hit the arm holding Bucky, someone he never thought he would see again materialised out of nowhere and the laugh made horrible sense.

 Loki appeared on the Destroyers’ shoulder, driving his knives into the joint and ripped, doing enough damage that it fell weakly to the to robot’s side, throwing Bucky heavily onto the stony floor.

 He was already running when it turned it’s glowing maw on Loki, already skidding down in a perfect Baseball slide when Loki threw something into it, already curled around Bucky when Loki flitted out of sight, already had the shield covering as much of them as he could when the explosion went off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

thud-thud

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

thud-thud

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ssshhhBLAM_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

thud-thud

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_shhblamSHHHBLAM_

 

 

 

 

thud-thud

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The air was hot in Steve’s throat as he came around coughing, completely disorientated, the ringing in his ears reminding him that he was seventy years in the future in the middle of battle from a fucking comic book.

 He peered down at the body curled against him, grinning down at Bucky who was covered in blood and dirt and ash, a bruise blossoming on his face, teeth bright against his lips and eyes vivid as clods of mud and bits of tree fell about them. Steve’s heart did a little half beat and before he knew it he was using the arm cradling Bucky’s shoulders to pull him closer and press his mouth to Bucky’s, tasting mud and blood and adrenaline, everything that let you know you were alive.

 “Captain! I thought you would have been made to be a warrior immune to the bloodlust of battle, to wanting to sate it in another body.” Loki’s cool, mocking voice suddenly cut through the bubble that had narrowed the world down to Bucky. Steve was happy to admit that he had forgotten all about him, rolling backwards to look up at the unruffled, elegant sight of Loki leaning on quite a large metal box.

“And who are you?” Bucky demanded, already on his feet but not yet in full danger mode.

Loki gave Steve a half amused, half offended look. “I am so hurt, Captain, that you do not warn your ignorant recruits about what I did to New York.”

 Bucky smiled, all teeth and unpleasantness. “Ahhh yeah, I know you. The Alien who tried to harness the Tesseract and had less success than the Nazi’s.” He goaded, dodging a knife Steve did not even see coming and deflecting another with his metal shoulder as he sent one that ripped through the fabric of Loki’s dramatic coat.

 They stood looking at one another, Steve tightening his grip on the shield but standing aside, ready to protect Bucky if needed.

“Now what could it be, born without an arm or lost it and had a shiney new one put on in it’s stead?” Loki feigned sympathy. “Lost it in battle did you, fighting with your Captain.” He glanced at Steve for a little too long, then smiled unkindly. “All the Captain's fault it seems, too busy saving the world to save you. Tut tut.” He turned his attention back to Bucky who had not moved an inch. “Could not save you from suffering, from being something only worthy of experiments, made into someone to fight gods and used on mortals instead. Now risking life and limb for the self proclaimed ‘heroes’…” There was a rumble of thunder and Loki blinked, then he was materialising into Bucky’s personal space, flickering when Bucky’s fist passed through his face. “Almost happened again if it wasn’t for me; he’s not strong enough, not fast enough, still not good enough.”

 There was the sound of wrenching metal as the image of Loki disappeared, the real one still over by the metal box, ripping it open and throwing a man at their feet.

“The Controller is in here.” Loki kicked the box lightly “It is made of lead so I would not touch it if I were you. This…” He pulled out something glowing from the heart of the machine. “...belongs to my people.” He was looking directly at Bucky as he spoke. “I’ll save you the trouble of asking Thor by telling you he won’t know what it is I have taken, we Jӧtun are things to be _exterminated_ , something not worthy of the purity of Asgard - not something to care enough about to let live let alone learn of.” And with that he vanished.

 Steve let the shield hang limply at his side not realising tears were running down his face, the world starting to match the ringing in his ears.

 Bucky was staring at the Controller who was unconscious in the mud, only moving when the Quinjet’s spotlights lit them up and he limped over Wanda, Steve stumbling after him.

 

Wanda was going to be okay, she had tried to use her powers on Loki and it had backfired, literally. “Now, my lovely, I’m gonna take you for an MRI but that’s just to check what 'appened hasn’t left brain damage, okay?” The RAF medic said, voice warm and comforting in its authority. “All burns are superficial, no internal bleedin' which is a miracle. All goes well an' you’ll be right as rain in a month.”

“You have made sure of it, thank you.” Wanda croaked, pressing her hand into the medic’s arm which she patted with a reassuring smile.

“You thank me by gettin’ better, alright?”

 Steve squeezed Nat’s shoulder, giving her an encouraging smile before watching her disappear into the jet behind Wanda and the medic.

“Hey Thor.” Bucky’s voice drew Steve’s attention over the thwump of helicopter blades and muffled shouts, it was his fighting voice. “This Loki guy…”

“I apologize for whatever my brother has done, he is not…”

“Said something to me about Jotun?”

 Thor looked thrown for a moment, but explained anyway. “Jötunheimr is the ice world, the opposite of Asgard. Our one time enemy until…”

“Until what? You decided they weren’t evil?” Bucky took a step forward that could only be taken as threatening. “That they were worthy of a life?”

 Thor bristled, Sam and Steve trying to verbally de-escalate but he spoke over them, “No, until my own arrogance brought me to their city, unlawfully, and much death and destruction was caused and they were forced to flee to the outer reaches of their realm.”

 Steve could not see Bucky’s face, but did not need to, he did not even need his silence to know the look in his eyes. “Buck, Bucky it’s not like that. It’s not like that, Asgard is a place of law and science…” He tried, falling silent when Bucky looked at him, an emotion there Steve would never know.

“So was Europe…”

 Sam put a hand on Thor’s shoulder and shook his head rapidly, pulling him back a few paces.

“Loki get’s into people’s minds, finds their weaknesses and exploits them.”

“I know, that’s what he was doing to you. Going on and on about you letting me die.”

Even though Steve had been preparing himself for Bucky’s blame for years, this still hurt.

Hurt bad.

Hurt like not being able to breathe.

Hurt by how unbothered Bucky sounded. He should be screaming at Steve, not loving him, not forgiving something Steve could not.

“You don’t think that hurts me more than what was…” Bucky did not finish, just turned on his heels and marched across the recently made clearing to hop up into an RAF helicopter that was taking off.

 Sam, Thor, and Steve watched it fly away until it was just a blinking light in the night's sky. Another presence made them look around and Steve’s legs almost gave out in relief when it was not Tony.

“Well, that gave me childhood flashbacks.” Clint sighed, waving them in the direction of the Jet. “Come on, I’ll drop you off wherever he ends up.”

 

  _Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen._

Steve could feel Thor watching him, wanting to ask about the rosary moving between his fingers but knowing better than to disturb him where he was kneeling on the hard floor by the bay doors.

  _Hail Mary, full of grace….pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen._

_…pray for us sinners, until the hour of our death. Amen._

_...pray for us sinners…._

_...And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; Amen_

_...pray for us sinners..._

 

 It did not take long for Clint to find Bucky, he had ended up at an airfield north-east of London that reminded Steve a bit of his army training camp.

He was sat in the Sergeants Mess, swirling what Steve supposed was the key to lock up around on the bar top that his head was rested on, empty bottles next to him.

“Booze tastes terrible when you can’t get drunk off it.” Bucky said quietly, otherwise not reacting to Steve coming to gingerly sit next to him, body aching terribly.

They sat in silence for so long two DJ’s had come and gone on the quiet radio playing somewhere behind the bar before Bucky spoke, tone flat.

“I was never angry with you. They only tried to make me forget you when I wouldn't hate you. Mistakes are made by us mere mortals, and that’s all me and you are underneath all this science. Fallible humans. It was the war and people died...it was the whole _bloody_ war.”

 Bucky sat up slowly, and a little while later turned his head towards Steve but did not look at him. The bruise on his face had now healed to a dirty yellow, the dirt of battle hurriedly wiped away from his ashy skin, a nasty scrape disappearing into his hairline that was matted with blood. Steve wondered how terrible he looked if Bucky, ever beautiful Bucky, looked that beat up.

“What was done to my people, that was not war.” He did several exaggerated blinks in a row, one of his stress tic’s. “Did you think of my family when you found out it was more than just the rumours we heard in Italy?”

“Yes.” Steve whispered. All he had been able to see when watching Schindler’s List was little Betty Barnes in her faded red duffle-coat that had once been Rebecca’s.

“He wanted me to be angry. Loki wanted me to feel all the anger inside me and he knew just what to say because he know’s it too. Not in the same way, but knowing your people were… like fish in a barrel.” He shook his head. “All I could think when I read all about what happened was that saying, ‘There but for the grace of God go I’.” Bucky gave a short, bark of bitter laughter, ticing again, finally looking _at_ Steve. “Are you okay, Stevie?”

Steve took in a deep breath and shrugged, when had he ever in his whole life been okay?

Bucky took his hand, “I was there for you, you were there for me, and now we’re here for each other.” Steve crumpled, ignoring the buckles to press his face into the warm, strong smelling leather on Bucky’s shoulder as he pushed his fingers through Steve’s hair. “You and me, we’ve made it out the other side of death. You don’t do that while smelling of roses.” Warm lips pressed against Steve’s ear. “I love you.”

 Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and squeezed. “I wanna go home.”

“We’re too far away from there to ever make it back again, darlin’.”

 

 

                                           ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

“What if she hates me?”

“She won’t hate you!”

“Don’t say that, you always used to say that and then people would hate me!” Steve looked down at himself as Bucky started laughing, pressing his face into Steve’s shoulder and tightened his arms around his middle. “I’m wearing a leather jacket and brought you here on a motorbike, she is _going_ to hate me. Why did you let me do this?!”

Bucky propped his chin on Steve’s shoulder, rolling his head to the side to look at him, “Well, it’s been fun but if Sumati hates you we better part company.”

Steve twisted around and pecked Bucky on the lips, “If you’ve squashed those flowers you’re walking home.”

“Nice to know you value flora more than your boyfriend falling off the back of your bike.”

"Tony has paid more than enough money fixing the wreckage we leave of buildings.”

Bucky punched him on the back of the shoulder and slipped off the pinion of Steve’s bike. “Fuck you, Rogers.”

“Watch it now,” Steve pointed up to the house where the door had opened behind the screen, the shape of Maina and another woman silhouetted against the lights from inside “or I’ll take your place as treasured guest.”

Bucky adjusted Steve’s disguise glasses and brushed his fingers through the fake beard on Steve’s chin. “When hell freezes over.”

                                                                                                       

                                                                                ---------------------------

 

If maa was not looking on Maina would have laughed at the sight of Steve sitting bolt upright and struggling to fit himself around their, not that cramped, dining table, while Séamus was relaxed, making sympathetic noises at her papa who was telling him all about his latest aliment.

 Maa was a businesswoman, you don’t run an opticians for twenty years with English as a second language (the Jersey accent counted as her third language) by being easily swayed, so the flowers, although nice, were not going to cancel out the Head Shakeⓒ rocking up on a bike got Steve. Very few people’s reputations recovered after one of those.

“So Steven...” Maa asked kindly, pleased by his refusal of a fork and attempting to eat with his hand. “I’ve never met a sign painter before, you must have a very steady hand.”

“Always room for improvement, ma’am.”

“You work in Greenwich Village, Maina said. I only ever hear about it from people or on the television, I try not to leave Jersey I have done enough travelling in my life. It sounds very ‘cool’, Greenwich Village all these err….these ‘Hipster’ people eating almond milk. I am being too curious I know, but what kind of money do you make painting signs in that place?”

Maina balked, she knew maa did not think a sign painter was worthy of a psych major but omg she did not expect her to go for him! “Mummy!!” She warned, but Steve assured her it was okay with a small smile she had definitely seen before.

“Enough to be comfortable, I have...what basically amounts to some inheritance that was unfrozen a few years ago so if work dries up I shouldn’t struggle.”

Maina was no Sherlock Holmes, but she definitely caught Séamus rolling his eyes at the unusual wording.

 So many mysteries about this boy. Not only did he have this unidentifiable difference about him, things that made her think he was from further away than just Brooklyn, but he had first introduced himself to her parents as James. They had been so intrigued to hear this stacked American speak Hindi with a Lucknow accent that they had had to sprint (well she sprinted it felt like he put on rocket boots he was going so fast) to their class and she had only got a chance to push him about it when they were in the library.

“I’m just used to it, people cope with James better.” He had explained like he knew she was not going to be convinced, refusing to meet his eyes.

“...James said you had a motorbike and I was so scared you would be some kind of hell’s angel! My poor James, so smart and sweet but such a baaad choice in a man. I am very pleased to see you are so polite and look so handsome under that beard.”

“ _Watch it aunty, we can hear your flirting.”_ Séamus teased, laughing at maa swatting him while Steve smiled politely if cluelessly.

 Dinner went well. Maa stopped asking searching questions of Steve, questions that he handled like an old hand at navigating ethnic families. They talked about NYU, the upcoming elections, travel (they were both strangely ignorant of local delicacies for such well travelled people), and the new rail network being built between Long Island and Manhattan. There was the moment when her bhai brought up when his engineering firm was hired to pull those three Helicarriers out of Washington and Séamus got very, very still while Steve tried to not look worried as he asked her show-off brother questions about it.

 Steve had mentioned during dinner he might have a exhibition soon, if he got the paintings done in time, that made her little sister light up. Bhakti had always drawn on everything, which had gotten her in sooo much shit as a kid, so Steve won a million brownie points by sitting down and looking at her drawings after dinner.

“ _Your idiot bua kept saying to me “Don’t send her to_ NYCU _, all those_ frat boys _will be a bad influence blah blah blah. But your friends are so nice!”_ Maa said as Maina loaded the dishwasher. “ _You should find out if they have any straight friends.”_

“James can understand you mummy, oh my god.”

“Then he’ll look without even having to ask! Won’t you?”

 Maina twisted to glare at him where he stood in the doorway looking innocent, but tired. Well, more tired than usual. “ _I’m sure Maina will make good choices in life, she’s very smart. Smarter than me_.”

There was a moment of silence where they just looked at one another, and Maina smiled. The evening had been pleasant but she felt a little melancholy. She was going to be really sad when they graduated and she did not get to see this possible threat to national security five days a week.

“You kids eat so much crap these days, you come ‘round to dinner whenever you want.” Maa declared as Séamus and Steve prepared to leave.

“Be careful what you wish for aunty _or we’ll be over every week with_  boxes _to take all your_ _all your food home.”_ Séamus grinned, bending to let maa pat his cheek.

_“Just you try it.”_

Séamus laughed and translated to Steve who smiled benignly, saying “He’ll take up the challenge now, you know.” And Maina finally realised who was stood in her hallway.

No.

 

No it could not be…

Séamus could not be banging Captain America? Could he?

No, he’s just huge and white and blonde, they all look the same right?

No Maina you’ve studied too much you’ve gone mad go and lay down.

 

Oh shit that is Captain America.

 

 

 

ssshhhhiiiiiIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTT

 

 

Okay, chill. Ice cold bitch come on now….

“See you next week Séamus.” Maina managed to get out at the right moment, giving him a one armed hug before turning to Steve.

“Good to get to know you better.” He said as he bent to hug her.

“Same to you, Cap.” She whispered

He froze against her, pulling back slowly and trying to hide the panic on his face.

 

OHFUCKINGSHITITISCAPIAMHUGGINGCAPTAINAMERICAABORTABORTABORTABORT

 

Maina took a calming breath and pressed her finger to her lips. Who knows, if she played nice StarkInc might give her a job.

 

                                                                            --------------------------

 

“I’m not annoyed.”

“Okay Steve.”

“I’m not!”

They hit the Jersey fly over and the conversation stopped to let Steve work around the traffic.

“How can she see you four times a week and never suspect?”

“She does, don’t worry, she just doesn’t expect me to be her bitching and study buddy, ya know?”

“But she expects you to be stepping out with Captain America?”

Bucky pressed in closer to Steve’s back, their helmets bumping “Well I am a catch…”

Steve checked to see if the road was quiet before putting a hand over Bucky’s that were pressed over his diagram. “Well, I’ll argue with most things but not with the truth.”

 

                                                  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

  The only fish Bucky had ever seen were the dead ones when he used to walk to work past the fishmongers, or the Goldfish he won for Steve at Coney Island that had died before they got it home. Needless to say his expectations of the aquarium had been quite low as they queued up in the stuffy ticket hall watching stills and graphics slide past on the big screens along with the ticket prices that still made them both balk before they caught up with inflation.

 He had really not liked the entrance-way with it’s glass floor and sleek grey sharks swimming through a mock shipwreck beneath their feet. Trying to drag Steve off it had not been entirely successful so Bucky had stood in the corner of the room with his hands deep in his pockets and scowled down at his feet while Steve had wandered across the floor to follow the sedate paths the sharks took through the water. Bucky had the unpleasant thought that the lethal ease, the precision of every part of the animal geared to kill, was reminding Steve of him.

 He had complained at Steve when he finally deigned to come over, slipping his hand into Bucky’s as they had followed the humid air down into where the fish were.

 

 “I’d never seen so much colour in my life.” Bucky mused a few hours later, toes skimming the water as they perched on the marina out back of the aquarium with a box of fresh made falafels between them. Steve had a full mouth so gesticulated while chewing to show he was planning on saying something important.

“Once we were up on the Afghan side of the Pakistani border, Nat, Clint, Ruml…, and me. We were up in the mountains, the Hindu Kush, on a mission. We cornered this Taliban cell hauling heavy weapons at the mouth of this pass, it was over in a few hours, destroyed what we couldn’t carry, and made our way out along the top of this pass.” He glanced at Bucky to make sure he was paying attention. “Sides were steep as anything, 1/1 nearly straight up. Like going up the side of the Chrysler building I swear. Nat and Clint were hopping along like mountain goats and I thought my asthma had come back the air was so thin up there. Anyway, we’re going until the sun starts coming down, the sky had been this inky, unreal blue all day and suddenly it’s purple and orange and blue and the clouds are gold. The rocks we’ve been scrambling over all day go red.” He picked at his maroon sweater. “Almost this colour, with the white snow on the mountain tops gone almost… almost a...”

“Lilac.” Bucky put in, keeping his eyes on where he was dabbing at the hummus pot with half a falafel. “The colours seem too intense and random to be real. Like a painting, one of the one’s you’d drag me to see when you couldn’t even see the colours in it.” He paused in his dabbing and looked out to the sparkling sea. “Wakhijr pass was where you were, eastern end of the Wakhan corridor. I prefered the Karambar Pass in the spring when the mountainsides were covered in flowers, with the tracks crawling through them and the lakes more bluer than...anything, the sky, this ocean. It was so beautiful.”

The chaotic noise of gulls and the creak of boats was the only sound for a moment as they sat in a not uncomfortable silence.

“Do you remember how long you were there?”

 Bucky let out a sigh and cocked his head so he could look up at Steve who was earnest and open and non-judgemental and Bucky wanted to shove the piece of falafel he was holding up his nose to get a reaction from him. Instead he ate it. “I don’t even know if I was there or this was all programmed in for a backstory, but...I don’t remember any rusty soviet equipment everywhere so it...don’t worry it wasn’t recent I wasn’t… I had nothing to do with…”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and he fell silent. “You didn’t do it. Over the past seventy years…”

“Steve, you gotta consider…”

 Steve suddenly looked harsh, scowling that scowl that should be about a foot and a half lower down. “They made you do it  _._ Whatever you remember doing, they made you do it.”

“Sometimes that’s not the most easy thing to think Steve.” Bucky tried to explain calmly, but he could hear the wobble in his voice. “That I was a weapon pointed and shot at people with no control at all. When it gets bad sometimes I tell myself I knew what I was doing just so I stop feeling like a person suit. A hollowed out person suit with a weapons system shoved in it.” Steve was holding his hand tight enough to break a flesh one. “I ain’t got your Catholic know how on navigating guilt, but it works for me.”

 Steve leant over, seemingly not caring about the food Bucky saved from a watery doom with a hissed, “watch it klutz”, to kiss him as thoroughly as he could without the both of them tipping into the ocean.

 Bucky pulled away gently, smiling when Steve tried to follow his lips. “Come on now, people will start to think fishes get you going, and Tony will ruin our apartment with fish-tanks.”

“Those tropical fish were something else...” Steve murmured as he brushed his thumb over the line of Bucky’s cheekbone.

“...Got nothing on you, dollface.” Bucky finished with a wink, laughing as Steve went red while trying to look annoyed.

“Now I know how you always got a date, stealing my lines!”

“I’m not…” Bucky felt off balance, if his arm did not have an inbuilt rotoscope he would be sure the marina had tipped. “I’m not…” He looked down, thinking about his arm alerted him to something and groaned, scrunching up his face as he picked his hand up from the box, leaving an imprint of it in the mangled falafels with bits of in the joints of his fingers.

 Steve had only laughed this hard once before. When Falsworth was the Dame in a pantomime the British troops were putting on for Christmas up in the Gothic Line in Italy. Bucky remembered Peggy had almost stopped breathing they were all laughing so hard at his brilliantly over the top performance. That was the first time Steve had ever laughed like that without a wheeze dampening the hilarity.

He did not know if Steve had laughed like that before DC, he certainly had not since after he found Bucky.  

 He was laughing so hard now, almost hysterically if Bucky looked hard enough, and it made Bucky smile despite himself. He gave Steve a shove with his clean hand and laughed when he almost fell off the marina if not for his grip on the weather worn wood, his super reflexes the only thing saving him from the water when Bucky actively tried to shove him off with a food covered hand to the face.

  

                                           ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Mesdames et Messieurs, esteemed members of the U.N...”

 Come on now, really? Really? When was any immigrant kid living from one dollar to the next in Brooklyn ever going to address a room filled with the great and the good from around the world?

 To be fair, the UN being something that only emerged after they had both not died made it a bit less of a big deal for them, judging by the reactions of everyone in Avengers Tower when the letter arrived. Steve should really be cacking himself a lot, not just a little.

 There had been a surprising amount of deliberation in the day’s coming up to this on what to wear. Tony had many two-thousand dollar suits made for all of them for public appearances and his fancy do’s, “So we can all stop looking like High School outcasts”, and for someone whose only really fitted clothes from before were dress uniforms the difference between Armarni and Zenga was negligible. The difference a cut of a suit and a colour of tie could make to someone’s image was revelatory to them both.

 Bucky shifted, adjusting the tie of the charcoal Westwood they had gone for (tidy, serious and tailored like Bucky was made for it), looking surprised at the sound of his own voice coming back at him through the speakers. Steve remembered hearing his voice for the first time on the Wireless and feeling a little strange that he had no idea what he sounded like from when he was small.

Bucky glanced around the room, making sure his eyes flashed over every part, before launching into his speech.

“I know it may seem unorthodox to you to talk about myself in a speech about such a wide subject, I hope you will all bear with me while I do so.

  I am James Barnes, some of you’ve probably read about me in your school books. James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, that Captain America’s friend. Read how we were best bud’s at school and at war and how we fought together, how we were both second generation immigrants to the States. Which is not untrue, I am glad to see that my friend Steven Rogers is recognised as an example for the good immigrants can do for their new countries.

 On the other hand, again risking making this all about myself, I am not a second generation immigrant. I was born on the boat bringing my family, my parents and my older sibling, Jacob, to New York. I am also the grandchild and great-grandchild of refugee’s. My ma’s parents came to the East End of London after running from Pogroms in Russia, my father’s grand-parents fleeing the same in what was Czechoslovakia. As you could’ve guessed by now, I am a Jew.

 In my family I have had the full migrant experience; fitting in and standing out, staying in the community or leaving it, as my grandpa did to marry a local girl. Even the changing of names so we could fit in, start over - I am on the Ellis Island Immigration lists as Akiva Berman. Look it up, it’s under April 3ed 1921.

 I won’t go into all the whacky stuff that happened for me to be here addressing you today, but I have found myself, like in a sci-fi flick, seventy years in the future in a world full of robots and amazing medicine, weird technologies and even weirder clothes.” There was a ripple of laughter and self-approval that ran around the chamber, Steve leaning forward in his seat for the meat of the speech. “I find myself in a world with a harder heart, verging on none, with a streak of hate that I know I put my life at risk to try and stop...I find myself disappointed.

 I gave you a brief run down of the history of Bucky Barnes because I see with the eyes of an immigrant, who has seen the terror in grandparents eyes that drives you to leave your home so far away. It is why, when asked, I felt that I should lend my voice to his meeting today.

 The world you have built in these seventy years strived for hope and help and comfort, it allows people to be themselves, to be healthy, to be free and educated. I am in awe at the excellent work done. Yet there are people fleeing horrors unimaginable, the huddled masses of the needlessly dispossessed because we do nothing to stop those horrors.

 I do not preach to open the doors of the world to anyone. I read the news, I know people wish to hurt all those that think independently and live free. I would say to you, representatives of the world, be kinder. Strive of peace, make it your business. Not closing yourself behind your doors against the bad things, go with our greatest weapon, diplomacy, and try all your might to not ever again let people suffer war and degradation, poverty and famine. Don’t let it be so people have no choice than to leave all they have ever known and go to a strange, frightening new country.

 These are just words,” Bucky held up his note cards, “made up on the spot mostly. You can listen to them and do something or listen to them and not. I am not your conscience. But if anyone in the world can push hard for peace and kindness and make it happen, it is the people in this room.

In the meanwhile, be gentle to us new-comers, we are just trying to live.”

 

 Bucky stood awkwardly for a moment as the applause swelled, eyes catching Steve who had jumped to his goddam feet and was clapping like a overly proud mother.

 It was as if Bucky suddenly realised he should be nervous. He gave a panicked smile, made to leave then rushed back to pick up his notes and strode calmly out the room because he could walk no other way but with confidence, head bowed to hide his ticing.

 Steve finally caught up with him in the toilets, sat curled up in a cubicle fighting down a panic attack.

 The breathing exercises and soothing things Bruce had taught Steve when Bucky was just starting his recovery felt like second nature by now, Steve smoothing the tears running down Bucky's cheeks once the worse was over.

“How can I counsel kids when I’m such a fucking mess. Such a stupid, stupid mess. How could you let me embarrass myself by talking in front of all those people?!”

“You did not embarrass yourself. Buck you did the opposite of that, I am so proud of you…”

“I’m crying in the fucking toilets you have nothing to be proud of!”

“You’ve never spoken to me about that before, you know. Any of that. I knew you were Jewish and all, but not that you weren’t born here, about your grandparents, your real name…”

“My real name is James.”

“Your birth name, you never told me.” Steve moved his hand to press over Bucky’s heart. “I get why you had to keep it all in _._ I wouldn't have before all this waking up in the future rubbish... You are so brave and good and full of hope, _a stór_. I always knew but I never realised until now just how much. I will try all my life and never live up to that.”

“You’re Captain America.” Bucky said sullenly

“I’m Steven Grant Rogers, I got into this by being a pig headed idiot.” Bucky made a ‘weellll’ noise and they both smiled at one another, Bucky a little on the snotty side. “I cannot think of a better person to counsel kids. You won’t just be…”

“Shit! My dissertation!” Bucky jumped up as if he had not just been on the brink of a breakdown and clambered over Steve to go wash his face. “I am so behind schedule, I gotta get three lots of five-hundred words done today or I’ll get even further behind shit! Shit!”

 There was no point in telling Bucky to just take a break. A strict schedule had kept him going through the early days of his recovery and when he was stressed he would revert back to one obsessively.

“Okay we’ll get home right now.” Steve promised soothingly, being as calming and amenable as possible as the foot stamping tic made a comeback. “As long as you promise me you will stop to eat dinner after the second five hundred.”

 Bucky pulled at face at Steve in the mirror but agreed, letting Steve fix his damp hair as Sam slipped in, having been keeping watch outside. He took one look at them and busted into a gap toothed grin. “No documentary I ever watched told me about how all you guys from the past were natural public speakers. If I’d have have known I’d’ve joined a debating society.” He slapped Bucky on the shoulder. “You were great man, honestly. It’ll get people talking about it and that’s step one.”

“That’s kind of you to say.” Bucky gave him a small genuine smile, but he was shifting uneasily and Sam picked up on it immediately.

“So you guys get on and I’ll distract everyone from your absence with my charm.”

“Thanks Sam.” Steve said quietly as they made their way out into the corridor.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m gonna make the most of those free canapés and champagne.”

 

 The clack-clack-clack of Bucky’s metal fingers over the keyboard was still ringing in Steve’s ears. They had bought four days of silent treatment from Tony by replacing the sleek, noiseless, ergonomic keyboard that came with the Stark desktop with the noisiest one they could find in a second hand tech shop.

 Having never used a typewriter Steve found computer and phone keyboards were normal in their noiselessness but Bucky, who had a younger sister training to be typist and a job in the offices of a shipping company, just could not type unless he was clacking away like a broken motor. Of all the things he could have lost his brain had to hold onto this!

 He found himself gazing down at the head resting heavily on his stomach, hair in his eyes, mouth open and beginning to drool on Steve’s t-shirt while exhaling audibly through his nose. Steve rolled his eyes at himself and went back to trying to find something on Nexflix to watch as both his book and phone were just out of reach on the coffee table next to what should be his second helping of Thai food.

 Just looking at it made his stomach grumble, which had Bucky shifting, sighing, then sitting up to look blearily at Steve while he wiped the drool off his face. “Eat the food Steve.” He grumbled, reacting belatedly when Steve pressed a kiss to his bottom lip.

“As you command.”

“Too right.” Bucky said as he flopped backwards on the couch, kicking his feet up on Steve’s lap and falling right back to sleep.

 

                                               ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“You gonna make this exhibition all about me then?” Bucky whispered, leaning over Steve’s shoulder and making him jump.

“All about how much of a _t_ _uilí  _ya’are!” Steve yelled, looking delightfully startled, clutching his sketchbook to his chest that just happened to be on a page of studies that included Bucky.

Bucky swung his messenger bag across his body, holding his hands over his heart. “I love it when you talk to me in Gaelic, tell me you love me again!”

“Fuck yoo-ooou” Steve sing-songed, blowing a kiss.

Bucky laughed, backing into the elevator. “Try not to pine after me too much while I’m passing all my exams!” He called just as the doors closed.

“Asshole!” He heard Steve shout through the doors and laughed.

 

                                                 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 Bucky paused just inside the doorway, kit-bag on his shoulder and hand still gripping the touch-key that worked their private elevator, looking at the discrete crucifix Steve had on the wall above the hatch that looked through into his kitchen. The kitchen.

Their kitchen.

 It had never caused a problem between them really (apart from the time Steve yelled at someone for saying all Jews were guilty of Jesus' crucifixion and got grounded for rudeness which had made hanging out with their other friends weird for Bucky as they did not seem to care). In the way of all Catholic’s Steve’s faith was just a part of him, in the way Bucky had almost ignored how being Jewish was part of his family.

 He realised then he was still wearing the yarmulke his grand-niece had given to him. Over the hubbub of the Passover spent with his family (his own nephews and nieces had kids his age, it was so fucking weird) the unfamiliar weight of it had become a familiar one. Having put it on every day for the past week he must have worn it automatically this morning as he left to catch the plane home from San Bernadino. No wonder his nephew’s wife looked so proud, and here was Bucky thinking it was because of him.

 Bucky had been about to touch the yarmulke, not knowing himself if he was going to take it off or not when Steve appeared from the office looking like everything Bucky did not deserve, paint smudged on his hands and across his shorts.

“Hey…” Bucky started, not getting to finish his greeting as Steve crossed the floor and was pressing Bucky against the wall to kiss him.

 Now, all that good Catholic boy stuff aside, they made out a lot, usually on the couch after eating or in the kitchen while cooking (did this mean they were developing a food thing? sounds messy), and could get pretty handsy. But nothing too much, everything above cloth, which Bucky was not about to complain about because his body did not always do what he wanted it to do.

 He had suspected Steve had been kissing someone on the sly all the while, because he was good at it. Unless the serum gave him special smooching powers which was just unfair, of all the things Hydra left out the serum it had to be that!

 Bucky was a little taken aback by the moan he let out when Steve licked into his mouth, feeling a change of intent behind the movement of his lips and the way Steve was crowding him against the wall with a thigh between his own. Bucky had one hand pressed into the solid muscles of Steve’s back, sensors tingling at the slightest movement, the other making a mess of Steve's hair while pulling at him to bring those open mouth kisses in closer.

 Steve, for the first time, slipped his hands up under Bucky’s sweater to touch his skin. It made Bucky’s toes curl in his boots, his whole body feeling electrified, but in a good way- Bucky was an expert in these things. He ripped his mouth away from Steve’s to let his head thunk into the wall and gape at the ceiling.

 That was taken as an invitation for Steve to apply his lips and gentle nips of his teeth to Bucy’s neck. He was gasping for air now, drowning in the sensation of Steve’s big, warm, calloused, _fucking gentle_  hand folding around the curve of his hip and his face nuzzling into the side of his neck, and yet his dick was still choosing to be agoraphobic.

 Steve’s other hand, ignored by Bucky in favour of its much more distracting brother, had made it’s way into Bucky’s hair and ran through it until his fingers got caught in the yarmulke. Everything stopped on Steve’s side of things but Bucky was still trying to cope with that hand. Steve looked up at Bucky’s face, seeming to just realise what that hand was doing to him and slowly withdrew it.

Without the distraction Bucky could fully process what had happened and swallowed. “Got a problem?”

“No.” Steve said immediately, gently removing his fingers from the back of Bucky’s head. “Only ever seen you wear one at the Synagogue.”

 Steve had of course come to Bucky’s Bar Mitzvah and was so intertwined with the family by the time of Rebecca and Betty’s Bat Mitzvahs he had come along to those too.

“My niece-in-law gave it me for Passover.” Bucky fingered it a moment before pulling it off and holding it in his hands between them.

“She has your sense of humour.” Steve smiled, looking down at the black star in a blue circle with red and white around the outside.

 Bucky shrugged and made an appropriate noise, folding the Yarmulke and putting it in his pocket. “That sure was a swell hello there Stevie. Ya been missing me?” Bucky drawled, picking up Steve’s hand and pulling it towards him, but Steve did not move.

“Actually, I’m glad we stopped there. I mean, I missed you so much. I hadn’t been this long without you for years and it was...hard going." Steve, never one for self pity, talked right through anything Bucky was going to say to that. "But I had something I wanted to say. To you that is. Got a bit distracted when I saw you.” Steve cupped Bucky’s face in his hands. “I forget how lovely you are when I’m not looking at you.”

“S’why you draw me all the time or what?” Bucky teased, falling back on that because Steve was making him nervous.

 Steve’s eyes flicked to his grin and back before he was kissing Bucky again, intensity doubled, both hands like brands against Bucky’s back and he felt like his mind was slipping away again.

If Hydra had been able to give him this he… would have teamed up with Steve and killed them all let’s be real here.

Bucky was aware they had managed to move to the couch, ripping away from Steve to pull his sweater off and then surging back to bite at the curve of his collar bone. “Want you Stevie, want you so bad.” Bucky breathed hard against Steve’s skin before surging in for a biting kiss, bucking his hips up so his leg pushed against Steve’s dick, the both of them moaning. “I want you, but...I don’t...I won’t be able to get it up today I don’t think I...but I still want it. You can do me still I’ll enjoy it I just…”

“ _Mother of God_ , _Buck_!” Steve panted, pushing himself up on his arms, face flushed and eyes hooded. It had Bucky preening a little before he registered the serious expression on his face. “It’s not that, I don’t want that. Well, one day if you want too yes, but today I wanted to…”

Bucky felt cold, his heart racing as his mind started echoing  **TEACH YOU TO SHUT YOUR MOUTH** TEACH YOU TO SHUT YOUR MOUTH teach you to shut your mouth _teachyoutoshutyourmouth_

 He was holding onto Steve tightly, feeling a little sick. “Can’t have anything it my mouth Steve, can’t do that. Can’t do it the other way either….”

“No Bucky, I don’t want anything. I won’t ever want that, I won’t ever I promise. I don’t want anything like that from you. I can’t have anything like that from you, Buck. I… I’m being stupid I know…”

“No, come on,” Bucky curled a hand around the back of Steve’s neck gently as he pushed himself up so they could sit facing one another, trying not to burst out laughing in giddy relief, “if you can be stupid with anyone it can be with me.”

 Steve pressed a kiss to the skin of Bucky’s arm near his face, looking like he was savouring the feel and scent of him, before looking him in the eye. “I want you Buck, I want to touch you and taste you and make you feel good. But I can’t if we’re not married.”

 Bucky raised an eyebrow, “You were old fashioned even when it was current fashioned.”

“I know, but it’s the way I am. I can't turn up to mass and do my rosary while picking and choosing what to obey. I've already made my own peace with God over many things, I break the 6th commandment nearly every mission and when I tried to... when I ditched the plane. There has to be a line. I don’t want to draw one with you but if I don’t I would lose myself totally.” Bucky leant forward and pressed his lips to Steve’s with as much affection as he could put into a kiss. It would have been possible to heat Manhattan with the warmth coming off him.

“It sounds to me like you’re being sensible, not going into things like crazy for once.” He whispered against Steve’s lips, fingers tangling in the chain of the dog tags Steve still wore around his neck.

 Steve laughed to himself. “I was thinking more Catholic guilt playing up again, I guess.” He looked at Bucky hopefully, and for longer than he would like to admit Bucky had no idea why he was being looked at so meaningfully. He would plead multiple electrocutions if anyone ever asked

  “Areyoudidyouareyou?” Bucky's brain may have stopped working from the shock, silence dragging out between them with Steve trying to not look increasingly worried with every passing second.

 He moved suddenly, jolting Steve out of whatever spiral of doubt he was on, sitting back to look at Steve askance. “Where the hell is my ring?”

Steve laughed. “Your left hand is made of metal, it’s a little hard to size.”

“And? You’re gonna have to get a wedding band on it one da..” And Steve was weeping, well almost weeping, blue eyes welling up as he grinned fit to split his face. “Oh Stevie.” Bucky cooed, leaning forward to kiss him gently.

 Steve sniffed attractively when Bucky sat back, watching as he went to find his dog tags and set about fiddling with the loop that held the tag to be taken off to record the dead. "Well luckily us Jews don’t go in for any of that guilt shit." When he had finally got it off he pressed a kiss to it before reaching out to attach it to Steve’s tags, trying not to react to the warmth of his skin or the hitched breaths when Bucky’s fingers brushed his neck.

 “This’ll do fer now. I dunno, you propose to me and I’m the one making the romantic gestures.” Steve looked down at the flat pieces of cheap metal with their names pressed onto them over a impersonal number, their names together, Bucky’s with the fading condensation of his kiss.

 Steve took calming breaths as he took his own off and clipped it onto Bucky’s tags, pressing his name into the centre of his chest. Bucky was suddenly in agony, for one moment he would never forgive himself for he imagined Steve’s tags had done something to him, SHIELDS’ long play to get the Winter Soldier once and for all. Then, being the brainwashed ass he was, he realised this was relief, love, heartbreak, and joy all at once.

 Steve was breathing heavily like he was in pain too. Bucky pressed the cool metal of the back of his hand to Steve’s forehead and he started laughing and crying at the same time. “Okay don’t flake out on me now, Stevie.” Bucky joked, feeling a little concerned.

 Steve cupped Bucky’s face in his hands and pressed a kiss into Bucky’s stubbled cheek, lips moving over them in a silent prayer Bucky did not try to make out.

“Loving you got me going all weak again.” Steve whispered when he finally looked up, pecking Bucky on the lips before kissing him again, more languid and careful this time so it made Bucky blush all over.

 

                                                    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

_“Modeh ani lifanekha melekh hai v'kayam shehehezarta bi nishmahti b'hemla, raba emunatekha.”_

 Hearing Bucky singing the morning prayer through the bedroom door made Steve stop what he was doing, brush hanging in the air between the paint and the canvas.

 Every morning they fought together, every morning they lived together, every time they slept over as kids (Bucky singing it quietly at Steve’s house and waking everyone up with it in his own home) Steve had heard it; he could recite it by heart since before he was eleven.

He had not heard Bucky singing it since they were kids, the hurried murmur of it a part of Steve’s mornings until the war took it all away. Twice.

 That he was singing it now, like he used to as a child, knocked Steve right off his feet. He could just remember Bucky’s powerful, clear pre-pubescent singing voice that would have been good enough to have him picked out as a Choirboy. He had not sounded like that since he was thirteen, his voice changed again by mistreatment, but something in the way he was singing, the innocently simple tune, had Steve thinking of that little boy who had been in his prayers since the day they met, who was always saving him from himself.

“I give thanks before You, living and Eternal King, that You have returned within me my soul with compassion; how abundant is Your faithfulness!”

 

                                                     ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 Bucky wanted to hide. He supposed that as it was caused by all the graduation kit and kaboodle and not the room full of people it should be counted as progress, be noted down in his file while he got a fucking sticker for his efforts, but he was still wearing all this shit.

 He did not really mind the hat, it had a cut out of the Raccoon guy from that Galaxy movie stuck to it (by Clint), picked out in glitter glue, (Pepper), and the rest covered in swirls of rhinestones (Wanda, who had definitely read his mind). It was the gown he hated.

Hated it so much.

He looked like a tent with a head wearing this _verkakte_ robe.

 Bucky had spent most of the ceremony sunk down in his seat, greatly displeased that not only has he been talked into coming but because he knew this was being filmed by his shitty, sentimental fucker of a fiancé.

Who Bucky had continually allowed to think he was enrolled at NYU as James, not with what his ma called him.

 At the time it felt like a good idea, the name he chose, but with Steve now looking on he really regretted never telling him. He did not talk about Sarah much, had not really after she died, and Bucky was getting cold sweats at the thought of upsetting Steve. Maina, next to him on the roll call (which shows the amount of effort they put into socialising), patted his arm until Bucky looked at her. “Don’t worry it will all be over in five minutes, even if you fall. And you’re wearing pants, I’m in a bloody Sari!”

“Ain’t that, _my fiancé is here_.”

“Hooooh my GOD” She beamed, smile rare but adorable, “ _You never said! Where’s the ring_ !?” She cooed, grabbing at his hand that was covered in the itchy hologram sleeve, frowning at him when there was no ring to be seen. “ _Why did you say yes with no ring? You already lost it, didn’t you!?_ ”

 Bucky found himself smiling despite himself, “ _We decided against it, I’d rather he spend his money on the honeymoon_.” He lied.

 She shook her head at him, “ _Don’t let maa hear about this or she’ll_ tear him a new one.”

 Bucky held in a snort at the thought of Steve meekly taking a telling off with many “Yes ma'am /No ma’am’s” from a tiny Asian woman, getting a taste of his own medicine.

 

 Steve had been disguised by Natalyshka for this, with his fake glasses, changed hair, fake beard, and clothes that made him look well built instead of just massive. It was a good disguise too as Sam had almost had vapours when he walked in on Bucky kissing him this morning. No-one really gave them a second look as Sam, who had wanted an afro as a disguise but had to settle for a shave, shook Bucky’s hand and pulled him in for a hug, laughing out his congratulations, before Bucky turned to Steve.

 To anyone but Bucky, even Sam, he looked quietly happy, but he could tell Steve was a shaken and it made his stomach clench before the bottom fell out of it. He could feel a twitch building in his facial muscles, mouth suddenly dry.

 Steve pulled Bucky in for a hug so hard it hurt. “Thank you, for using that name. She’d be so proud of you…” And Bucky was holding onto Steve’s jacket so tight he would have ripped it if was not made from the high tensile fabrics Thor had brought back with him from last trip back to Asgard. “I’m so proud of you Buck, even more than usual.”

 He opened his eyes, blinking away tears, and saw Maina and her family looking on with charmed smiles. If it was just Maina he would have flipped her off, instead he pulled his face away enough to smile, letting go of Steve to wave them over.

“Don’t mention we’re engaged in front of Sumati or you’ll get rightly told off for there being no rock on my finger.”

“Oh man,” Sam said, eyes glinting with mischief, “Now you’ve set me a challenge!”

      

                                                    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Steve glanced down at Bucky who looked pretty much like he always did, a real knock out, and was content in the first time for oh...ever.

 He was marrying his best guy (Catholic marrying, the Jewish one had already happened a couple days ago and Steve had not stopped smiling since Thor had picked up his chair and carried him around the room yelling ‘mazel tov!’ and ‘l’chaim’), Tony was trying very hard to pretend that he was not crying while Sam was just crying. Crying next to Steve, which was a little off putting but whenever he glanced at his Best People he got Sam’s winning smile through the tears while Natasha handed over tissues and beamed.

 Steve nudged Bucky while the mass was being given “Hey, from up here you don’t look half bad, down angle suits you.” He whispered while pulling himself up to his full four inches taller than Bucky.

“Huh,” Bucky mumbled, glancing up at him, “Cause you look real shitty from down here pal.”

 Between the bridesmaids (Pepper and Maina, who had been ‘headhunted’ for StarkInc not long after she admitted to Bucky she knew who he was marrying and then Bucky had to admit who he was and there had been a lot of swearing and stunned silences) and what Steve suspected was more Tony’s bank account than his own, the day was stunning.

 The whole thing was at one of the huge Robber Baron Mansions out in the Hamptons that were just a rumour to the likes of Steve and Bucky back in the day but was now a hotel that staying a week at could rent an apartment for a month. Oheka castle or something like that, all Steve knew was that it had a split main staircase that he somehow thought only existed in the movies.

 The ceremony was in the Library as it felt the most church like (plus all of Steve’s family he knew about was dead so that cut down the guest list a bit), and the reception was held between the mirror like pools in the ornate formal garden.

 They did not go in for any of that first dance shmaltz, just whacked on the music after Sam and Pepper had done the speeches. Bucky had refused point blank to get up and talk in front of all these people and Sam had allowed Steve to get out of it by claiming they did not want the nuptials ending with Steve whipping everyone up to go march on Washington.

 Thor had smuggled in the Asgardian good stuff (literally, this stuff was officially banned in the States), so Steve could get tipsy enough to be pulled onto the dance floor by Jane and Maria.

“You see the pattern they’ve put down.” Jane was shouting at Maria, pointing at little twinkling and whooshing LED’s in the floor.

“Yeah...oh my god yeah I do!”

“I made that happen.” Jane was a little drunk, Steve thought a little drunkenly, “I did...I gave Pep’ the idea. It’s the stars over Brooklyn and the North Atlantic in 1920 and ‘21 respectively. And some comit’s that were seen between those years to mix it up a bit. That over there is the…”

 Steve left them discussing astrophysics on the dance floor, going to hide down the other end of the garden with Bruce and tried to draw as much of the day as he could before getting caught not having fun by Clint.

 The Newlyweds made their exit while everyone was gearing up for the fireworks, tripping over themselves with wild laughter to get to the balcony of their suite just in time to watch them light up the sky. And in a very cliche moment looked at one another at the exact same time as the fireworks lit them both up, Bucky’s ears going red despite the different coloured flashes of light when Steve picked up his left hand a kissed his ring finger.

 And then, in true decades of unresolved sexual tension style, they raided the mini-bar for snacks and fell asleep watching BBC America.

 

                                                 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 Bucky stood looking at a painting. It was of a kid, maybe seven or eight, wearing smart patent shoes and uneven socks, shorts not covering his scuffed knees where he was sat on a curb with something on his knees, sleeves of his cable knit jumper shoved up to his bony elbows and a cap pushed back on his wavy hair. The background was in greys and browns and pale greens, but the kid was in overly bright colours.

 It was different from the rest of the work’s on display, so different even Bucky had had to double check the info card.

   **THE FUNNIES.** S.G.ROGERS.

     _oil on canvas, 25x32_

 Steve’s paintings were energetic and hyper realistic, the colours bold and shapes exact, everything feeling like it was moving. Soaring red-brick buildings, chaotic explosions, huge ice caps, skyscrapers, fjordland Bucky recognised, forests, towers of technology. And all featuring a tiny figure in the middleground, completely overwhelmed by what was going on around them but exerting a presence with its stillness.

 They were going down very well with the art-critic, in-the-know people Pepper had invited to opening night, Steve had even had a few offers to buy that he still was not sure about accepting.

 But Bucky could not get away from this painting. It annoyed him that the kid had his eyes averted, feeling like it would all make sense if he just looked up instead of grinning with his missing front teeth down at whatever he was reading.

 Something struck Bucky, a sense of being somewhere else, of watching the kid laughing, turning to a tiny blonde scrap of a thing sat next to him in far too big clothes, saying with a soft, slightly accented lisp. “Hey Stheeve, you gotta read thith one.” Holding the magazine out for the tiny kid, for Steve, to read.

 That kid had been James Barnes.

 That kid painted so vividly, so perfectly from memory, had been him once.

 He felt himself welling up, memories flooding back of how small Steve had been, how frail, how Mrs.Rogers tried to keep him away from the bigger kids and only let him out with Bucky because she always said he was gentle, and kind, and patient.

  Bucky had no idea that meant to much to Steve, maybe he had known once but not any more. He turned to look at him, stood talking art with a group of people he towered over like one of those perfect statues of long dead men you see in museums.

 Steve glanced up, saw Bucky with the painting, and smiled.

 Good job he had already married the sonofabitch or they’d be eloping right now.

 

                                                          ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 Despite being in Italy for quite a lot of the war Steve had never gotten to see Rome. Well, the Howlies had sped through it in the back of the an Austin Lorry under orders from 8th Army to try and locate the retreating Germans while Gen.Mark Clark stopped his war to take a leisurely tour of the city, the bastard. But Steve had seen the dome of St.Peter’s above the buildings and made himself content.

 Now, not only had he seen things he thought would only ever be in pictures in books, Steve had been in the very heart of the Vatican having had a private meeting with His Holiness in a cloud of exhilaration similar to when he stepped out of the VitaRay machine breathing and seeing clearly for the first time. Or when he first kissed Bucky. 

 He had received the invite to meet with the Pope not long after he had told Nat they were going to honeymoon outside Rome, so no prizes for guessing who let that slip to the right people. Steve was the second most famous Catholic in the world right now, and also one of the most outspoken lobbyists for changes in some doctrines. An audience with the Pope had always been a possibility but never one he ever imagined would come true.

 The invite had also politely included Bucky but he decided he would rather look around Vatican City; if there was one thing he hated more than the cold it was sitting in a room with security watching him. After his short meeting was done, and he had taken mass, Steve had found him stood in the middle of the Raphael Rooms with his hands deep in his pockets, turning slowly as he tried to take in the soaring frescos. 

Bucky had grinned when Steve came and stood at his elbow. “Are you absolved now?”

“Hardly gonna confess to the Pope.”

 Bucky had feigned a look of surprise, “You? Didn’t take the chance to talk?” Steve had gently knocked him with his shoulder which had finally got Bucky to look up at him, relaxed and sporting a healthy glow from laying on a li-low in the pool all the previous day. “Did you get your mam’s Rosary blessed?”

 Steve looked down at the beads still wrapped around his hand, just like in the photos from when they pulled him from the ice. Beads of mottled green marble from Connemara, his mammy used to say, worn on one side from fingers passing over them daily, a little silver crucifix one end and a small St.Christopher medallion at the other along with the slim Claddagh ring his mammy had worn from the moment his da had given it to her to the day she died. She had given it to him to pass on when he married and despite several arguments Bucky had flatly refused to take one of the last things Steve had of her.

 Steve ran his finger over it as he sat with his feet up on the balcony ironwork, listening to Bucky humming at an obnoxious volume in the shower, and was glad for the refusal.

 After a surprisingly frank discussion about Steve’s moral standpoint on homosexuality and birth-control versus the Church’s, Steve had told His Holiness about his mammy as she was the reason he had this faith that had got him through so much. When it was time to go His Holiness laid a hand upon the rosary Steve was clutching out of nerves and told him Sarah Rogers’ had already given them a greater blessing than he could, but that he would pray for her.

 Bucky had given his impressed face at that, itching at where the holographic sleeve attached to the top of his arm before making ‘I wanna get out of public’ noises so they had left, via a Gelateria.

 The shower shut off and after a few crashes and curses that was Bucky knocking all the bottles over in the shower the obnoxious humming came into the bedroom. Steve closed his eyes as he listened to Bucky pick something up and dump it on the bed before rifling through it, his enhanced hearing picked up on few thing that were definitely in his bag.

 The wooden lounger creaked as Steve leant over the arm to peer into the bedroom at Bucky, gloriously tanned with towel dried hair, a big fluffy towel wrapped low around his hips so Steve was treated to all of him, from the curve of his collarbone down to the V of smooth muscle leading temptingly past the edge of the towel. And he was still humming. Steve would never tire of Bucky so long as he was gloriously, coherently, alive in all it’s irritating facets.

“Your shitty clothes are in the other bag.” Steve spoke up, rolling onto his feet and coming to stand on the threshold of the balcony with his hands in the back pockets of his shorts.

Bucky glanced at him from behind his wet bangs and snorted. “Excuse me if I don’t come to you for fashion advice.”

“Oh yeah, and the guy with that sweater doesn’t need clothes advice?”

“First of all, that picture is in black and white.” It had been in one of many of their biographies, a shot of the shipping offices with Bucky in the mid-ground stood proudly by his desk. “Secondly you were colourblind so I dunno why you expect me to believe you.”

“Not for yellows!”

“’Sides, you dress like a mid-western geography teacher from the 50’s. Which is amazing as you were under an ice  _cap_ when that was going on.”

 Steve had taken in the breath to complain about that pun when a strip of prophylactic’s and a bottle of lube hit the bed. Bucky swung the bag on the floor so they could look at Steve accusingly from the crisp sheets.

“Hey now, Clint and Sam snuck them in there. I didn’t…” As much as Steve hated it, Bucky’s body was not back to normal. The ticks would never go, his sleep cycles were erratic, and there were very rare episodes of time loss. Any unwillingness of his body to play was just one of the blissfully short list of Hydra side-effects that Steve would never once complain about because Bucky was _alive._ “Don’t you start thinking you need to do things, or let me do things. I am more than happy as we are.”

 Steve had read the Hydra reports of what was done to Bucky over, and over, and over again, he knew what was done better than Bucky did. It was what was not recorded that scared him, things Bucky would react to that made Steve want to kill _._

“I got that the last hundred times you said it.” Bucky huffed, crossing his arms over his bare chest as goosebumps suddenly flared up his arm. “Who the hell do you think I am? I ain’t gonna yell at you for being sex prepared, I have a child psychology degree!”

“Don’t...what are you doing then?”

 The glare dropped off Bucky’s face and he...smiled coyly? “I am taking a direct approach.” Bucky said gently as he closed the distance between them, eyes flicking over Steve like he liked what he saw, running his hands up Steve’s arms and over his shoulders before running finger-tips over every bump and divot of Steve’s chest down to the waistband of his shorts. “I’m propositioning you, dummy.”

“You’re…” Steve started, then floundered.

“You’re my husband now, I got rights!”

“Do you now?”

“Yeah, fulfill your duties, Steven! Or should I say fill me full.” He smirked, waggling his eyebrows.

“I can’t believe I let you kiss me with that mouth.”

 Bucky stepped in closer, leaning in to scrape his teeth dangerously over the Steve’s adam’s apple, nipping up his neck to his ear. “I’ll moan sweetly with it if you like…” Bucky _purred_ and Steve very nearly embarrassed himself.

“Do you really want that Buck?”

“What?”

“Me to…” Steve pushed through a lifetime of internalised restrictions to force the words out in a whisper, “...to fuck you?”

“Gotta consummate this thing sooner or later.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky kissed him so he felt like he was 90lb’s sopping wet again, sucking on his lower lip as he pulled back. “Before you ask, hell if I know what this might bring on or if I’ll like it, but I know you’d stop right away if I change my mind.” He cupped Steve’s cheek with his cool, metal hand, looking at Steve earnestly. “And I trust you, completely. Always have .”

“You sure know how to romance a guy.” Steve murmured, knocking their noses together as he skimmed his hands down the curve of Bucky’s back to settle just above the towel, not feeling very worthy of that trust.

“You’re doing a pretty good job ya’self, mister.” Bucky breathed against his lips, bumping their lower bodies together. “Wanna take me to bed?”

 Steve did not hold back when he kissed Bucky, hefting his not inconsiderable weight up like he was a sack of potatoes, one hand bracing his back and the other digging his nails into the meat of this thigh. Bucky made a surprised sound into the kiss, his hands gently cupping Steve’s jaw as he walked the short distance to place Bucky down carefully on the bed.

 When Steve stood Bucky had a dirty grin on his face, towel slipping, his lips even more pink and plump after Steve’s kisses. They smiled at one another a little dopily before Steve remembered himself and began to strip, catching his shirt on his head which had Bucky collapsed back on the bed laughing.

 Steve finally freed his head from the cloth menace and shucked his shorts, keeping his underwear on because baby steps. He straightened to be met by five-feet ten inches of solid, powerful muscle on what was still a lithe body, skin tanned everywhere the sun had touched it.

Bucky had a few scars, mostly around where the arm was attached, less than Steve ever expected to see, but that did not stop him thinking Bucky had a back worthy of Michelangelo.

He crawled over Bucky slowly, running his lips up the smooth dip of his spine to lean his cheek next to Bucky’s ear. “Why you on your front bud? I wanna see your face.”

“You know what I look like.”

“Com’on Buck!”

“I’m Jewish.”

Steve was thrown by that, going to speak several times before asking cautiously, “Are there rules for this stuff then?”

“What? No you idiot, I’m _Jewish_.”

“Oh…oooooohhh!” Steve pressed his face into Bucky’s damp, warm scented hair. “If I can deal with your face I can deal with your dick.” Bucky laughed, the motion vibrating up through Steve’s chest in a not unpleasant feeling.

“Your smooth charm has made another conquest.” Bucky drawled, making to roll onto his back and tip Steve off in the process, but Steve stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

 Now, all that reading he had done to try and 'know himself' had involved a lot of things that repressed, respectful, more concerned with not dying Steven Grant Rogers had not known existed between a man and a women let alone between two men. He had gone through the gauntlet of feelings about this from ‘Mother of God!’ to an insidious curiosity.

“Make up your mind!” Bucky huffed over his shoulder as Steve began pressing lingering kisses to his shoulder blades, letting his fingers bump over Bucky’s ribs before curling over his naked hip, Bucky letting out a tiny gasp as he shifted to pillow his head on his arms.

 Steve’s heart was thudding in his chest, nerves singing out at the feel of Bucky’s warm body brushing against his chest, amazed at how good just touching him felt. He did not let himself get side-tracked by rubbing his face against the warm, sweet smelling skin at the dip in Bucky’s back, no matter how much he wanted to, concentrating on leaving sucking kisses all over, smiling as a kiss to the join of skin and metal had Bucky whining impatiently.

 When he reached the dimples at the base of Bucky’s spine he shoved himself down the bed so he could slowly run his tongue over them, kneading one of Bucky’s ass cheeks as he turned to scrape his teeth over the other. The noise Bucky let out was somewhere between gasped shock and a yelp, shifting distractedly.

“Will you let me, Buck? I ain’t never done it but it should be good, I read up on it…”

 Bucky started cursing, twisting his body to look down at Steve. “Of course ya’ read a goddam book about it! Save me! And you have a go at my dirty mouth. Feh!” He grabbed a pillow then turned back around to look Steve straight in the eye a little nervously. “Good thing I showered first.” He snickered, wiggling playfully when he rolled over with the pillow under his hips to raise his firm, round ass off the bed.

 Steve let Bucky settle, taking the opportunity to run his big pale hands over Bucky’s golden skin - although the serum stopped him staying burnt it did not improve his Irish melanin production- waiting for Bucky’s shoulders to relax before moving on to gently massaging his ass until he moaned, Steve nuzzling in to run the flat of his tongue over the small circle of muscle.

 Bucky made inelegant noises at first, and as Steve got into the swing of things they became gently encouraging gasps that gave him the confidence to go for it, Bucky opening his thighs further to make more room for.

 It turned out he quite liked doing this in the way you like something you suddenly find you’re good at. Loved how he could look up the rolling muscle of Bucky’s back to see him not know whether to lay flat or push himself up on his elbows, arm making little noises, head hung low between his shoulders, loved how a press of tongue had Bucky moaning and kicking his feet in the air, how a suck could have him letting out little high pitched gasps, grabbing at the sheets when Steve wiggled his tongue .

 The lube and prophylactics were shoved distractedly down the bed at him and Steve made a note that next time he would aim to be so thorough Bucky would not be able to think.

 As he pulled his mouth away Bucky groaned needily, making Steve’s dick twitch. He whimpered, so caught up in doing his best for Bucky that he had ignored his hot, heavy dick lewdly leaking into the waistband of his briefs. The new feeling of being this aroused, of being able to hear each little panted breath Bucky let out, the taste of him on his tongue, made it stupidly difficult to get the plastic wrap off the bottle of lube, getting so wound up he very nearly crushed it and had to bury his face in Bucky’s back in exasperation.  

 Cold, gentle fingers brushed through his sweaty hair as he breathed Bucky in, soaking in the warmth that always calmed him before getting back to his task.

“I’m gonna follow your lead on this.” Steve said into Bucky’s ear, trying not to let a tremble enter his voice as he ran his hand over the smooth skin of Bucky's ribs. “How you want to do it. What...position?”

 Bucky huffed as he shifted his body around so he was facing Steve, the back-chat he expected not forthcoming as Bucky was trying to look everywhere but at Steve’s face with his bright, devastating dark eyes. He let his legs fall open, the unexpected softness of his inner thighs holding Steve as he settled between them, still held up on his arms, the both of them gasping as their dicks slid together through his briefs.

 Steve could not resist rocking his hips, his surprised gasp lost in Bucky’s groan as he grabbed at Steve desperately.

“This uuhhh, is ummm...good.” They glanced at one another, a little embarrassed, a little awkward, and burst out giggling.

“Such poetry!”

“Shut your goddam mouth and kiss me.”

“With where it’s just been?” Steve felt a little scandalized.

 Bucky smirked “You always talk shit anyway don’t make a difference to me.”

 Steve resisted Bucky tugging at his shoulders, grabbing hold of Bucky’s calves to pull his knees up to rest against his ribs. Bucky fell silent, breath heaving, trying unsuccessfully to keep a wince of discomfort off his face as Steve slowly, gradually, pressed a slicked finger into him. Bucky looked like he was going to say something but let out a shuddering gasp instead, fingers pressing into Steve’s biceps.

“You don’t look like this is okay, Buck.”

“Give it a moment you impatient…” Bucky cut off his grumble to breathe calmly, eyelids closing so the fan of his lashes brushed tanned cheeks. Steve leant down to press his lips there, feeling it when Bucky smiled and relaxed with a whoosh of breath. Bucky ran his finger-tips everywhere he could reach as Steve carefully opened him up, pressing his lips to the points of his face and along his collarbone, whispering how much he loved him, how beautiful he was, always had been, and that he loved him some more for good measure.

 Steve was getting uncomfortable in his brief’s now, his mind wandering away from taking care of Bucky to his dick, his whispered sweet nothings becoming little more than nonsense as he thought about that tightness and the heat of him, feeling ashamed he was being so selfish in his thoughts when this was all about sharing.

That lasted until Bucky’s metal hand grabbed Steve’s ass hard enough to bruise, the both of them jerking back to look at one another in surprise.

“I think it’s telling us something.” Bucky breathed, eyes too full of heat to laugh.

  Steve pulled away with great effort, wiping his hand on the sheet before hauling himself up on the bed to yank his briefs off and chuck them away. He stood for a moment to look down at Bucky who had let his knees fall open, an alluring tilt to his body from the pillow under his hips, all muscle and softness and endless expanses of skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, a flush settling on his chest, blue peeking out from sultry hooded eyes.

 He was so overcome by want he did not know what to, just stood with his fists clenched at his sides looking down at Bucky, wondering if touching would have Steve shattering into a million pieces, convinced that he was about to hurt him.

 Bucky seemed to see Steve’s sudden internal turmoil, sitting up to take one of Steve’s hands gently. He waited until Steve unclenched his fist to hold Bucky’s hand before tugging Steve gently down as he reclined back on the pillows, hooking one knee over the crook of Steve’s elbow and not letting that hand go as Steve went overboard slicking himself up and pressed in with more control than he thought he had. Bucky caught his eye to smile up at him, expression a little pinched, and Steve forgot to worry.

“You’re so sweet to me, sugar.” Bucky drawled, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders to pull him down for a dirty, opened mouth kiss, moving his hips gently against Steve who was shaking by now with the force of staying still; he felt so good, better than Steve thought possible. Bucky collapsed back onto the pillows, biting at his bruised bottom lip. “So sweet to me, so I know you’ll fuck me right.”

 Steve buried his face in Bucky’s neck as he moved, squeezing Bucky’s hand that he was pressing into the bed as Bucky grabbed the sheets with the other, throwing his head back and moaning deep in his chest when Steve curled a hand around his hip and shifted him into a better position.

“Ooh Fuck…!” Bucky cried out, slamming his hand into the headboard as if to make a point, heel digging into Steve’s ass. “Steve, Steve, harder. I know you ain’t even all the way in yet you big sonofabitch. I can take it, I can take it…”

“Bucky…”

 He arched as he let out a frustrated noise and Steve had to give in to that, making sure Bucky felt the slide of every single inch of his dick, hitting his rhythm after a few slips. The bed was shaking with the force of Steve's thrusts, Bucky's hand making the padded headboard creak as he made sure the neighbours knew how much of a good time he was having.

  Steve never took his eyes off Bucky, drinking him in; hair dark with sweat sticking to his forehead in curls, head pressed into the white pillows, his Adam's apple working beneath the elegant line of his throat as he gabbled, slipping between languages so suddenly Steve could not keep up .

  Fearing injury to both Bucky and the bed Steve slowed to a deep, careful roll of his hips, moving in closer to grind into Bucky's ass, savouring the feeling of the warm, tight, smooth body under and around him. He ran his hand down the back of Bucky’s thigh to squeeze his ass, grinning when Bucky’s icy eyes glared at him almost outraged for a second before he swore and they slipped shut again as he arched off the bed. “You look so good Buck, almost as good as you sound, almost as good as you feel, almost as good as you taste.” Steve heard himself saying, punctuating every fact with a sharp snap of his hips.

 Bucky breaths started coming desperate and short between deep groans as he tried to move back against Steve, toes and fingers curling, trembling, gasping in air with his eyes screwed shut. “You can do me as slow as you like next time, I need. I need. I need it. Steve. Steve I need it!”

“Only if you look at me.” Steve ground out, Bucky snapping his wild eyes open as he squeezed Steve’s hand.

It was all over not long after that.

 Steve wobbled, unsure which side to collapse once he had fucked Bucky through both their orgasms, and then the surprise second ones the serum provided that rendered Bucky completely silent while Steve felt like it had dragged something out of his extremities and left him fuzzy headed.

 Bucky winced when Steve pulled out, taking his hand from the mess he had made of the headboard to tug Steve down to lay half on top of him, legs tangled and his sweaty shoulder against Bucky’s heaving chest, heads turned towards one another on the pillow.

 Steve looked at Bucky and grinned helplessly, feeling drained and giddy and so deeply in love he would have whooped if not for being totally fucked out.

 Bucky’s leg was twitching, a sign of exhaustion, and grinned back like he was trying to out do all the efforts of a millennium of artists. If anybody cared to ask Steve he would say he had succeeded, and that’s why no-one ever asked him.

 As sweat cooled on their bodies Steve considered the effort it would take to get under the sheets, rolling onto the strip of foils. “Ah crap, I forgot the prophylactic.”

Bucky gave him a look, not needing to say, “Don’t worry, my cycle hasn’t come around yet moron", for Steve to hear it.

“I know you ain’t gonna get knocked up. But you’re gonna hav’ta get up to clean up.”

Bucky closed his eyes, twisted his head towards the ceiling and opened them again to silently yell. “FUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!”

 

                                               ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 Rome had agreed with Bucky, whether it was the food or the sunshine or the hectic laziness or the perfected Italian pastime of doing nothing. He felt centred and whole and not one nightmare had haunted him, he had slept whole nights through, and his dick had had the most life in it since 1945.

 It had only happened once before, let’s call it a 'stimulation', at a time when even choosing to get out of bed could be too much for Bucky. It was from his out of control body not arousal, with hindsight that would have been much worse, and the whole thing had been very distressing despite Sam talking him through it. Thank God for Sam, without him the both of them would be even bigger messes.

 Steve had a stupidly happy look on his face the days after their mutual cherries were popped (Bucky had been unsure until then, just stopping himself from blurting out, “Nope, nothing been in there before”, and ruining their evening of wedded bliss). He had always glowed, it was not just his blonde hair and perennial paleness, something within Steve shone out. In his more uncharitable moments Bucky used to think it was his aggressive internally directed frustration and righteous pigheadedness. He realised the day when Steve held his hand as he flipped a coin into the Trevi Fountain that he had been glowing with the same happiness, albeit less intensely, since their first coffee date.

 Steve was so easy on the eye, so fucking lovely like sunshine on fresh fallen snow, that Bucky had slipped into the bath with him that evening and exercised those thigh muscles everyone kept talking about, trying not to flood the bathroom as he rode him slowly, like Steve wanted, but they still had to use a suspicious amount of towels to mop all the water up.

 Then on the morning they were to leave Bucky had woken up needing like nothing else before. They barely got a chance to say one word to one another before they were rolling around the floor biting and grasping, Bucky getting rug burn on his knees and bruises on his hips that had healed by the time they got to the airport.

 The worry that Steve might expect such things of him semi-regularly lodged under Bucky’s skin like an itch; he had no idea if his body could ever do that again. But he did know, despite the niggle, that would not be the case. Steve was a lot like a dog when it came to Bucky, the slightest bit of affection had him pleased as punch. That, and remember this is Bucky talking here, was probably not a sign of Steve being 100% emotionally healthy. Listen to him, sounding like a fully functioning human!

 Today he was enjoying the summer, sat on the porch swing in the Avenger Tower garden looking out over the scented flowers, a glass of Ribena in hand (how he had acquired a taste for that long gone to a Hydra brainwipe) swinging himself gently by rolling from the heel to the ball of his feet then back again.

 He was off Avengers duty for the moment as he was doing his counselling training, main upshot of which was that he did not have to sit around suited up while on call in the August heat.

 Sam and Nat were sat a little way off on the grass half in their combat gear flirting between listening to the radio. Steve was perched cross-legged on a bench in the periphery of Bucky’s vision just in the thin bottom layer of his suit that left nothing to the imagination (not that Bucky needed that any more), bent over his sketchpad and drawing Bucky like he always did, like he was something worth recording.

 Thinking of Steve had him reaching for his ring finger. A link had been ‘laser cut’, whatever that meant, with a Claddagh so he now matched the simple band Steve wore when off duty. His flesh fingers ran lightly over the grooves of what was his wedding ring and he smiled.

 For the first time in many bleak decades a human being known as Bucky Barnes was content to be alive.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A translation of the smattering of Gaelic
> 
> A chuisle mo chroí: 'Pulse of my heart' (when is Steve not dramatic?)  
> Mo Shearc : My Treasure  
> A Stór: My Darling  
> Tuilí: Bastard


End file.
